SAN FRANCISCO
by SANDEFUR
Summary: A crossover between Joan of Arcadia and Women's Murder Club.
1. Chapter 1

SAN FRANCISCO

by SANDEFUR

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction just for fun. I have no claims.

6-30-07/Saturday evening.

Joan Girardi scans the crowd at the busy train station, looking for a relative she hasn't seen since before the family moved to Arcadia. Despite the intervening years, Joan is fairly sure she will recognize her Mom's second cousin. Florene Donnelly and Helen Girardi share a close family resemblance even though they are remotely related. Joan senses someone approaching who has an interest in her. She turns and is surprised to see a fairly attractive blonde woman in her late twenties who is holding a cell phone with Joan's picture on the screen.

"Joan…?"

"Right the first time."

"Hi, I'm Heather Donnelly, and I'm here to pick you up."

"What happened to Florene?"

"Aunt Florene sends her regrets, but she had sudden car trouble and asked me to fill in."

"Is she okay?"

"Sure, the auto club arranged a tow to the dealer, and Aunt Florene was only a couple of blocks from her home when the car broke down. Fortunately, Tom and I hadn't left for the restaurant yet."

"Tom?"

"My boyfriend. You'll meet him when we get outside. He's making sure we don't get a ticket for parking in the drop off lane. Can I help you with one of your bags? They look heavy."

Joan easily lifts both bags. "They are, but after eleven hours of sitting on a train, I feel the need to use a few muscles."

They head for the exit, and Heather is impressed that Joan keeps up so easily. "So, I guess we're distantly related?"

"Very distantly. Florene is your aunt?"

Heather nods. "My Dad is her half-brother. As I understand it, our common ancestor is Joe Donnelly who also lived in Arcadia?"

"He grew up there, travelled a lot during his long life, and settled back in Arcadia when he retired. Joe was Florene's grandfather, and my Mom's great uncle on her mother's side. I think Mom only met Joe once at a family reunion when he was very old." Joan says, reminding herself that she must keep secret her knowledge that Joe Donnelly ('Joe of Arcadia') also served as an instrument of God.

Heather responds, "I know the family tree, but I never understood how Florene and Helen became such close friends, considering how distant their family tie is. Of course, I only got to know Florene after I moved to San Francisco to attend college."

"Well, Mom and Florene grew up together. As kids, they live only a block apart, and were together in school from kindergarten through high school. They looked so much alike, people often mistook them for sisters. It wasn't until they went to different colleges that they began to drift apart."

By now they are outside and approaching a man in his early thirties who is leaning against a Ford sedan. He is a handsome, well-built man who is obviously confident and intelligent—a real alpha male type. Heather smiles broadly, and Joan can sense her intense love for her 'Tom'.

"Joan, this handsome fellow is my intended, Tom Hogan. Tom, this is Joan Girardi, my…distant relative."

"Nice to meet you, Joan." Tom says as he politely holds out a hand, but Joan noticeably hesitates…

"Tom, are you on the job?"

"You recognize I'm a cop?"

"I was hoping so since I recognize that bulge under your jacket. It's the same kind I've seen under my Dad's coat for years." Joan says as she now shakes Tom's hand.

Heather proudly says, "Tom was recently promoted to lieutenant."

"Congratulations." Joan says as she hands her bags over to the 'big strong man'. He is surprised by their weight as he places them in the trunk. ('Yeah, that's right, big boy. I'm stronger than I look'.)

Moments later, they are under way with Joan riding in the back seat and enjoying her first glimpse of San Francisco. Joan automatically takes a 'read' on the couple in front of her. Not surprisingly, Heather utterly adores this very masculine guy who is a couple of rungs above her on the old one-to-ten looks scale. Her love burns like a blowtorch, while Tom's is more like a candle's—steady but not intense. He is fond of Heather, and enjoys their sexual relationship, but it is hardly a grand love for the ages. This reminds Joan too much of her recent rejection of the proposal of marriage made to her by Dylan Hunter. The uneven intensity of their love, and the lack of anything in common, caused Joan to reluctantly say, 'No'. She knows that Dylan is a great guy, but Joan couldn't see how they would make the relationship last…

"Joan, is your dad also a detective?" Tom asks.

"Currently he's the police chief, but he's been on the detective side of the business for a long time. Before our move to Arcadia, Dad was a lieutenant on the Chicago force. What about you, Heather? What do you do?"

"Kindergarten teacher."

"That sounds like fun."

"It is. It can also be challenging work, but I couldn't have picked another career. I just adore children, and I always knew I wanted to work with them."

As Heather talks, Joan notices Tom's 'love candle' burning brighter. Oh, so that's it. Tom Hogan has reached an age where he is looking to start a family. He hasn't been searching for the great love of his life. He has been looking for a great mother for his future children. Well, maybe this will work between them - as long as that great love never appears in Tom's life.

Not long afterward, they arrive in an area of large, beautiful Victorian homes that face a lovely park. As the exit the car, and Tom struggles with the bags, Heather comments...

"This is Alamo Square. Tourists from all over the world come here during the day to photograph these beautiful Victorians. Needless to say, they're very expensive."

Tom adds as he rings the doorbell, "But be careful at night. Crime is not a respecter of real estate values..." (The door opens and Tom calls out...) "Good evening, Professor Donnelly."

In the doorway, Joan recognizes Florene Donnelly, "The one who talks to flowers." Now a respected professor of botany at U. C. San Francisco, in her undergraduate days Florene was ridiculed when she first suggested plants would grow better if you spoke to them kindly.

"Tom, I've told you before, I'm 'Florene'. If you don't stop with this Professor Donnelly business, I'll start calling you Lt. Hogan."

"Sorry...Florene. I'll remember." Tom says as he carries in the bags. Heather and Joan follow him in.

"One distant cousin delivered safe and sound." Heather says as she kisses her aunt's cheek.

"Thank you, Heather. I appreciate the short notice rescue. Now Joan, let me look at you... My, what a lovely young woman you've grown into."

"That's so true." Joan says with a broad grin to let everyone know she is kidding and not an egomanic. She and Florene share a polite hug, and Joan is struck by how much this distant cousin looks like her Mom. She even wears her hair curly the way Helen use to.

Tom asks, "How is your car, Florene?"

"I don't know. The tow truck got it to the dealership just before they closed, but the owner called and said he would have a loaner here first thing in the morning. Tom, Heather, thanks again. Now, you two run along and enjoy the rest of your evening."

Everyone exchanges fond farewells, and soon Florene and Joan are alone.

"Joan, would you like to see your room, freshen up or, if you like, I have dinner warming in the oven."

"Food. Definitely food. I'm starving."

"Dear, didn't you eat on the train?"

"That was the plan, but it turns out the motion of the train didn't agree with my stomach. All I've had since breakfast is a can of Sprite."

"Then you really must be starved. Follow me."

Florene leads the way into a charming country style kitchen, and soon Joan is digging into a delicious casserole and fresh bread from the breadmaker. As Joan begins to feel restored, she fills in Florene on the latest news from the Girardi household, especially the news about little Eleanor...

Florene reacts, "I still find it hard to believe Helen had another baby at her age."

Joan shows a recent photo of her new sister and notices with amusement Florene trying not to wince at such a homely child. "Yeah, at first Mom thought she had finally slammed into menopause, but the doctor squelched that idea. Now we have Eleanor Theresa Girardi, who is as sweet and adorable as she is beautiful."

Florene gulps nervously, unsure of how to react without being offensive.

"Relax Cousin Florene, we're all well aware that little E. T. is butt ugly. Even so, we're hoping that plastic surgery will one day fix the Dumbo ears, huge honker and receding chin."

"Well, looks aren't everything, and I'm sure Will and Helen are delighted to have another baby."

Joan shrugs. "Actually, they were delighted to have their first grandchild living with them, but when Eleanor came along, that was another matter. Of course they love her, but they are well aware of the drawbacks of having another kid so late in life. On the plus side, they're both on a health kick like you wouldn't believe. Having E. T. around might actually extend their life spans."

The sound of someone entering from the front door interrupts their conversation...

"That must be Kate." Florene says.

Moments later, a red-haired woman of medium height and in her mid-forties enters the kitchen. Joan's immediate reaction is, bluster.

"My brother is a stubborn jackass!" the woman 'Kate' says as she goes to the refrigerator, grabs a beer and takes a swallow. She notices the baby photo on the table. "Wow, someone beat on this kid with an ugly stick."

Florene hisses, "Kate..."

"You won't believe what David is considering, and all because he can't think straight with Ashley's boobs pressed up against him. I ask you, do all men think with their joysticks?" Kate says as she looks directly at Joan.

"Uh, sometimes it seems that way."

"Well my brother does. You won't believe what that old fool may agree to. That child-bride whore of his wants to have a kid! David is turning FIFTY on Wednesday." (Looks again at Joan.) "Have you ever heard of anything so ridiculous?"

Florene tries again. "Kate! You remember our houseguest? Helen's daughter, Joan?"

"Oh right, the distant cousin. Sorry if I was rude, but I'm just so mad!"

Joan smiles. "Really? I hadn't noticed."

Kate laughs. "I like this kid."

Florene says, "Joan, this occasionally embarrassing woman is known to the world as Katherine Bloom, attorney-at-law. To me she is Kate, my life partner."

"Nice to meet you." Joan says. "You were on the topic of your brother and a potential late-in-life baby?"

"Yeah, sorry. I remember now your folks just had a baby, and your dad is around fifty?"

"Fifty one, and as Florene and I were just discussing, my parents have definite concerns about having a baby at their age. After all, Dad will be 68 when Eleanor graduates high school."

"Exactly. It's a stretch of sensible behavior, and my brother used to be a very sensible man until two years ago. David was a widower with no children who discreetly dated age-appropriate women and focused on his career. Then he met a 22 year old blonde with giant boobs who knew how to flatter a middle-aged man. The next thing you know, he wants to marry the little gold digger!"

Florene tsks. "Kate, that's a little harsh."

"Is it? Joan, my sister and I leaned on David really hard, and eventually we managed to convince him that he should get a pre-nuptuial agreement. Oh, the little whore didn't like that. She boo-hooed about how he didn't trust her, and if he loved her he wouldn't ask her to sign something like that, but when she saw she might lose her free ride, she came around. Now those two are married, and Ashley goes through his money as fast as she can."

Florene softly appeals, "Ashley went from being a waitress to being the wife of a prominent millionaire. That's a difficult transition for anyone to make."

"Well now she's come up with a new scheme. Ashley knew when she married David that he didn't want to have children. She said she had no problem with that, but all of a sudden, it's all she can talk about. I figure she's gotten tired of having a middle-aged man plowing her furrow, and she wants out. But that pre-nup means she'll get almost nothing in a divorce. However, if she pops out a kid, David will be paying through the nose for years to come."

Florene, "Cynical."

Kate, "Naive."

The two women smile at each other with great affection, obviously fond of their give-and-take conversations. Joan notes that Kate outwardly seems the stronger of the two, but all of that bluster hides a lot of insecurities. Florene, the quieter one, has far greater inner strength. Together, they make a well-balanced couple.

Joan asks, "Is your brother going to go through with this?"

Kate grunts. "He says no when he's using the big head, but Ashley knows how to manipulate him. David promised to give the idea serious thought, and will have an answer after his party on the fourth. By the way, you're invited to that party."

"Me? I...wouldn't want to intrude."

"Nonsense. There's going to be over a hundred guests, and David has the penthouse of a tall apartment building on Nob Hill. The view of the Independence Day fireworks will be great."

Florene adds, "You really are welcome to come, Joan. You can even invite that boyfriend you're here to visit with."

Kate says, "Oh right, you're here to shack up with your hometown hottie. Got a picture?"

Joan blushes as she searches her wallet for a photo of Adam. "Actually, Adam and I are bit estranged at the moment. My visit here is sort of a test of whether or not we can salvage out relationship."

"Are you hoping for a successful outcome, Joan?" Florene asks.

Joan blushes again as she knows what Florene means by 'successful'. Oh yes, she wants lots and lots of...success. "I'd like to think we can still work as a couple, especially since Adam was the first guy I ever loved."

Kate, holding the photo, remarks... "He's a good looking kid. Hey...I know him."

"You do?"

"Well, I met him once at an art show sponsored by the university. David is the Dean of the School of Art, and somewhat of a mentor to this Adam...Rove, right?"

"Right. That's quite a coincidence, you meeting my boyfriend amongst all the people who live in the bay area."

Kate shrugs. "My sister Charlotte would call it a 'cosmic connection', but then again, she's this weird psychic..."

"Wait. Your sister is the one who sometimes helps the police as a psychic?"

"You've heard of Charlotte?"

"I met her, briefly, while she was working on a kidnapping case in Arcadia. Uh, she wasn't a lot of help that time."

"Charlotte will admit that she only gets it right about half the time. You probably won't get to meet her this trip. A family hired her to track down a runaway daughter, and Charlotte is convinced the teenage girl is somewhere in the Rocky Mountains."

Joan breathes a sigh of relief. She wouldn't want to try to explain Charlotte's pronouncement that Joan has a 'special connection to the universe'. Still, these coincidences have Joan wondering if there is a divine connection involved?

X X X X X

7-1-07/very early Sunday.

Shortly before dawn Joan is awake, dressed in jogging sweats and waiting by the window of the guest bedroom. Nervous about her pre-arranged date with Adam tonight, Joan was restless and awoke early. With such an early start, Joan decided to get ready for the appearance of her tutor-angel... Tap. Joan opens the window immediately.

"I'm up. Meet you in the park."

The angel nods and walks away. Except when he is lecturing her on demonology topics, he's not a chatty guy. As quietly as she can, Joan tiptoes downstairs so as not to disturb Florene and Kate in the master bedroom. Making sure she has the key given to her, Joan steps out on the front porch and shivers.

The sun is only minutes from rising, and the streetlights are on, but Joan can barely make out anything through the thick fog. Even her 25 foot tall tutor, standing in the park, would be invisible if his eyes didn't glow. Shivering again, Joan walks toward the park, and is reminded of a quip by Mark Twain who said the coldest winter he ever experienced was a summer he spent in San Francisco. As Joan reaches the park, her new cell phone begins playing: 'When The Saints Come Marching In'. The caller I. D. reads: GOD. Joan answers...

"Before you start, can you do something about all of this fog?"

"Joan, you know I don't interfere that way. The coming sunlight will burn off the fog quickly. Did you perhaps have a question about coincidences?"

"Yeah, I remember you once telling me that there are few coincidences. That often it is a matter of people not being able to see the big picture and recognizing where all the connections fit."

"You have a good memory, Joan. But, coincidences do exist. My hand isn't always behind them."

Joan sighs. "Why do I get the feeling that this is leading up to another one of your backdoor ways of getting me involved in an assignment without breaking your promise that I could have time off this summer?"

"Joan, I'm saddened that you are so mistrusting. I gave you this vacation time, and I want you to enjoy yourself. Of course where your free will choices may take you are a situation in flux, as always."

"Well, my free will choice is to spend time with Adam and see if he and I can patch things up. This is important to me, so none of your passive-agressive manuvers, okay? I need this time with Adam to...uh..."

"Yes Joan, I know what you are hoping for."

"Is that tone a commentary?"

"Joan, if you hear a 'tone', it is in your imagination only. You have free will, and my trust that you will use it wisely. Enjoy your vaction."

As Joan and Phone God have been talking, a couple of tough young men, drug addicts who prowl the night looking for what they can steal, silently watch Joan. The night has yielded them little, and on their way back to their 'home', they have spotted an easy target. With a grunt of pleasure and anticipation that even if they gain little monetarily, they can at least have some quick 'fun' with such a pretty girl. Silently, they move forward, but at every step, a feeling of dread begins to overtake them. They glance about nervously, feeling panicked, but not knowing why. Approaching a level of pure terror, the two men are unable to resist the urge to run away. Little do they know that the two demons of violence and addiction that influence their lives have recognized the danger that Joan represents, and that is why they are running as if their lives depended upon this escape.

Meanwhile, Joan has completed her warm up exercises and has begun her run. Alamo Square is four city blocks in size, and Joan alternates laps of jogging and running for nearly an hour. During this time her tutor barks out a lecture on fire demons, who have far less influence than they use to since people have stopped worshipping fire. Still, they often influence pyromaniacs, and they love corrupting small children - getting them to become facinated with fire. At the end of her run, Joan practices the bizarre but highly efffective angelic fighting techniques her tutor has trained her in. Finally, she comes to rest on a bench, wiping the sweat from her eyes and enjoying the sunlight now that the fog is gone.

Satisfied with the extent of her workout and degree of attention during his lecture, the angel begins to walk away. Joan calls out...

"Wait, we need to talk."

The angel says nothing, but pauses momentarily.

"The thing is, I'm on vacation and there may come a morning when I need you to not do your tap-tap-tap routine on the window of...whatever bedroom I happen to be in."

The angel frowns, not willing to make this easy for her.

"I'm...talking about my sex life."

"I wasn't aware you had one."

"That's the point. I want one, and my visit here might be my only chance this summer to...start one."

"With Adam Rove."

"Can't keep secrets from you, can I? Yes, with Adam - assuming things work out between us. So, if I'm with Adam one of these mornings, lay off the tappity tap stuff, okay?"

"I can make it a spiritual 'tap'. Only you would hear it."

"Again, you're missing the point. That morning I wouldn't be in the mood to train. I'll be busy cuddling, and...maybe having morning sex. Understand?"

"I have seen the entire span of creation. Yes, I understand all of your bodily functions."

With that, the angel turns and walks away. As usual, Joan watches his departure. He makes an impressive sight, but the angel definitely takes getting use to. No wonder the first things angels always said in the bible was 'fear not'. Feeling relieved she has got her point across, Joan heads back to the old Victorian house...

Meanwhile... Kate Bloom rushes into the kitchen and takes her seat at the table. "She's coming."

"What's the hurry? I only asked you to see if Joan was done with her jog."

"Shh. I'll tell you later."

The sound of Joan entering the house is heard, and a moment later she joins the two older women in the kitchen...

"I'm back. Something smells really good."

Florene replies, "Bacon and cheese omelets, if you'd like one. Or, are you a vegetarian? I have tofu."

"Eww. Bacon and cheese sounds great. I worked up quite an appetite. Do I have time to take a shower first? I also worked up quite a sweat."

"Of course, dear. The omelet can be ready with only a few minutes notice, so take your time. Enjoy your shower."

"Thanks. Be right back."

Joan rushes to the stairs, and the two women wait until she is out of earshot.

"Now, what's up?" Florene asks.

"When you asked me to check on Joan, I looked out the front window and saw her resting on a park bench. She was looking up and having a conversation, but no one was there!"

"Oh. Maybe Joan was praying? I know Helen is quite religious, and maybe she passed that on to Joan."

"No, this wasn't any sort of prayer. I could tell, it was a conversation where she paused several times while waiting for a response. She definitely thought she was speaking to someone."

Florene pauses, concern on her face. "Okay, I didn't want to mention this, but a few years ago Joan went through some problems with her health. She had Lyme disease, and was feverish with delusions. She thought she was having conversations with imaginary people, and last year it came out that those talks were with...God."

"Florene, you've invited a crazy girl into our home? She has a key to this house! Who knows what lunacy she might drag in here?"

"Now Kate, it's not that bad. Joan spent an entire summer at a camp for troubled teens, and came back much better. She doesn't have those delusions any more. You've seen and spoken with Joan, and you said you liked her. Please don't hold it against her that she had a few problems when she was younger. I, of all people, know what that's like."

"That's different. You were proposing a scientific study that said plants respond to people's voices, and it was true."

"Yes, eventually numerous studies showed I was right, but for a long time, I wore that 'crazy' label. One you have it attached to your name, it's nearly impossible to get rid of. For years I've been known in my family as that oddball who talks to flowers."

"At least now when your family talks about the crazy member, they won't necessarily be talking about you." Kate says with a chuckle.

"It's not funny. Talk like this would really hurt Joan. I know. Besides, I still think all you saw was Joan praying. Some people don't do it in a rote way, but actually speak to God like a person."

Kate snorts, "As if that wasn't crazy. Talking to thin air and expecting some sort of response."

"God is real. I saw that during my experiments with the flowers."

"Here we go again..."

"How else do you explain that plants exposed to kindness and love grow better than a control group, while plants that are exposed to harsh yelling and threats wither? How can you explain that plants, with no mental or emotional components, respond to good and evil the same way higher beings do? How can that be anything but the inherent plan and will of God for all living things?"

"I'll admit that it's kind of weird that plants react to emotions, but it would take a lot more than that for me to believe in God, especially when you consider how every major religion in the world condemns the two of us for being in love. What kind of God is that?"

"That's religion, not God. Maybe that's a new experiment I should consider? Expose various plants to the preaching of the different religions of the world, plus devil worship, and see how they do. Maybe it's a way to see if one religion is any better than all of the others. I'm not sure how that would turn out, but I'd be willing to bet the plants exposed to the sounds of devil worship would do horribly."

"I'll take that bet. Winner gets to pick the restaurant of their choice, and the loser pays."

Florene laughs. "Deal. The easiest lobster dinner I've ever won."

"Hey wait, there better be a control group. The deal is that the plants exposed to the devil stuff won't do any worse than those exposed to nothing."

"It's still a deal, and I'll make that surf and turf, if you please."

X X X X X

For Joan, the rest of the day is one of nervousness and soul searching. It has been nearly a year since she last saw Adam, and the few times they have spoken since then were filled with harsh words and bitter feelings. For most of the year they have communicated by e-mail because they seem unable to speak civilly to each other. Was she fooling herself with this reunion? True, she missed Adam dreadfully, but was that due to a lost love, a lost friendship or just plain horniness? At 19, Joan has become increasingly frustrated with her virginal status, and one way or another, she is determined to end that status before she is out of her teens.

Joan has no doubt that she loves Adam and always will, but is that the way her heart truly feels or is this a nostalgia for that simpler, sweeter time in her life? Of course her body simply replies, who cares? Jump his bones! Joan sighs as she tries to deal with the endless emotional baggage between her and Adam while resisting the urge to just give in to her hormones. It would be so much easier if this was just about sex, but there is the morning after to consider... Adam has hurt her too many times (and she him, if she is being completely honest), and she doesn't want to look over at Adam the morning after and hate herself, or worse, him. After all, this is their third (fourth?) attempt at making a relationship work between them, and something always interferes... Like Bonnie.

No, that was unfair. Joan has accepted that she bore some of the responsibility for what happened between Bonnie and Adam. The night she rejected him in the camper, she was too naive to know that she needed to reassure Adam that the problem had nothing to do with his lovemaking techniques. It wasn't his fault she didn't become aroused. It was because she was obsessed with how losing her virginity might adversely affect her relationship with God. Focused only on her own problem, Joan did not consider how she had shattered Adam's ego as a guy, and that he needed to prove his prowess to himself or go mad with doubt. And of course, there then entered into their lives that greasy little skank, Bonnie.

Forget high school. Focus on the now...but was that any better? Last summer, after her war with Ryan Hunter, she and Adam found that their renewed friendship still had the potential for romance. Both were worried that if they failed again in a relationship it would forever end their friendship, but the urge to try again was just too strong to resist. They swore to go slow and to honestly say if they had any doubts along the way. If so, they would retreat and settle for just friendship. But things went well. Slowly, Joan regained that deep trust she needed to have in order to fully commit herself. By the time Adam was about to go away to State (an easy commute from Arcadia), Joan decided she would join him for his first weekend there and finally consumate their relationship. But once again, fate bitch-slapped her.

Berekley was Adam's dream school, but he lost most of his scholarship money due to a plot by Ryan. Adam settled for State with the consolation that at least he would be near his girlfriend. But some kid who had a full financial package to go to Berekley had to drop out at the last moment to enter rehab. Adam was offered the financial package (thanks to Dean David Bloom, Joan now realizes), but the catch was, he had to take it immediately. In the rush to make it to California in time, Adam forgot one minor detail. Joan.

Infuriated, and feeling betrayed once more, Joan raged against Adam in one angry phone call after another. Eventually, she declared that since she was such an after thought in his life, they should date other people while they were apart. Angry himself by what he saw as Joan's unfairness, Adam readily agreed. And that's how they left it. Dozens of times afterward, Joan thought of calling Adam and apologizing and asking that they call off this dating others idea. But pride and stubborness won the day. When Adam informed her that he would not be coming home to Arcadia on summer vacation because his work was catching on in the bay area, Joan wondered if she would ever have another chance with Adam Rove. But then came this vacation, paid for by Kevin, and hope sprang up once again for Joan.

Now it is early evening, and Joan waits nervously for Adam and their first date in nearly a year. Does he still love her? Does he want to bother trying again? And just how many women has Adam Rove had in his bed since she last saw him? Joan gulps as impossibly high numbers race through her head. The doorbell rings...

Joan hears Florene answering the door and welcoming Adam inside. Joan stands and makes her way from the living room to the foyer. There he is, looking incredibly handsome in his best navy blue suit.

"Adam..."

"Jane..."

Like an old fashioned movie, they race into each other's arms...

To Be Continued. Please review.

For those unfamiliar with the TV show Women's Murder Club, it was based on the series of books by author James Patterson. Barbara Hall, the creator of Joan of Arcadia, worked on the show as a consulting producer and wrote some of the episodes. Women's Murder Club ran on ABC on Friday nights, and it was definitely a cut above the average police drama. It quickly became my favorite show of the 2007/08 season, so naturally it was canceled. Oddly, the show won its' time slot nearly every time it aired. So why was it canceled? Like JoA in the second season, the average age of the viewer of W. M. C. was over 50 - the kiss of death for network television. (Who do they think makes up the majority of the Friday night TV viewers?) For the purpose of this crossover, I have played a little fast and loose with the timeline.


	2. Chapter 2

PART TWO

The hug goes on and on—Adam and Joan holding each other tightly. With tears in her eyes, Joan realizes how much she has desperately missed Adam and this type of closeness. Not just the physical touching, but the sense of belonging to someone. The hug continues and Joan wishes this moment would never end. When it ends, dealing with their problems will begin.

"I'm sorry, Adam."

"Me too. I'm so sorry, Jane."

They separate slightly, both have tears in their eyes. They share a brief, simple kiss and the hug resumes. Across the foyer, Kate Bloom chuckles…

"Think they'll stay like that all night?"

Florene raises a single finger to her lips in a 'shh' gesture, but Adam and Joan have heard the comment and realize they must move on to the next moment of this reunion. Reluctantly, they step apart, blushing slightly.

"Uh, Adam, this is my host and distant relative, Professor Florene Donnelly."

"The one that talks to flowers?"

Florene smiles and looks to Kate. "Told you so. It never goes away."

(Joan nudges Adam with her elbow.)

"Sorry. I meant, it's a pleasure to meet you, Professor Donnelly. And hey Ms Bloom, good to see you again."

"Hello Adam. Before the two of you rush off, I want to invite you to my brother David's birthday party on Wednesday night."

"I'm already invited. Dean Bloom asked a few students he calls…promising."

"From what I remember of your artwork, that's a well deserved accolade. I look forward to seeing you there."

Florene asks, "Where are you kids going tonight?"

Adam answers, "Otto's Tyrolean Café. The owner, Otto Schneider, allows bay area college students to display their artwork at his restaurant. I have one of my sculptures there, AND Otto actually hired me to do a mural based on one of my sketches. He almost never pays for art, so it's kind of a big deal for me."

Florene nods. "Then you must be really good. I hope the two of you have a wonderful time."

"Thanks Cousin Florene." Joan says as Adam helps her on with a light wrap. Even if it is July, Joan feels the need for something a bit warm over her standard little black dress. As they are about to exit, Florene whispers in Joan's ear…

"Dear, if you're not going to make it back tonight, I'd appreciate a call so I don't worry."

With a nod and a shy smile, Joan exits holding onto Adam's arm—feeling for the first time in quite awhile, happy and excited.

X X X X X

The trip to the restaurant goes quickly as they ride a city bus. Adam makes small talk about the transit system in the bay area, and how the journey from Berekley to San Francisco only takes half an hour by BART train. Joan fills Adam in on her recent scenic but stomach churning trip up the California coastline. All too soon they reach the appropriate bus stop, and the half block walk to the cafe shows Joan this is an up and coming neighborhood with many new shops and trendy restaurants.

As they enter Otto's Tyrolean Café, Joan takes a good look around. Converted from an old hardware store, the building is long and narrow with few signs of its' previous incarnation. Brass railings, candles, green plants and tables with green and white tablecloths create a quiet ambience. What sets the café apart from its' rivals is the many displays of artwork from area college students, making the place a virtual gallery. A good deal for all—lots of intrigued customers for Otto, and plenty of public exposure for the aspiring artists.

"Adam, welcome." The maitre'd says with a broad smile.

They shake hands. Adam is obviously known and popular here. "Hello Karl. Jane, this is Karl Schneider."

"Hi, Joan Girardi." Joan says with a nod.

"A pleasure to meet you young lady." (Then to Adam…) "My friend, you are a very lucky man."

Adam smiles and nods while Karl beckons to a grey-haired man who is circulating amongst the patrons. With a friendly smile the man approaches, but Joan frowns as she senses someone is scrutinizing her. Joan does a quick glance around the restaurant, but doesn't notice anyone other than a couple of men casually checking her out.

Karl says, "Uncle Otto, Adam is here with his special guest."

"Ah, Adam my boy, you spoke the truth when you said your girlfriend from Arcadia is beautiful." Otto says with a slight Austrian accent while kissing the back of Joan's hand.

Joan smiles, finding the gesture a little silly but also a little charming. "Why thank you, sir. I'm Joan Girardi, and I think you have a beautiful restaurant."

Otto swells with pride as looks over his domain. "Thank you. This is the culmination of the dream I had when I first came to this country thirty years ago. Karl, make sure they get the reserved table, and everything is on the house."

"Thanks Otto." Adam says as they shake hands, but Joan can sense a tension between the two that they are trying to hide.

Karl grabs a couple of menus and begins to lead them away from the entrance. As they walk along, Joan again senses that scrutiny she felt earlier, but now it is more intense. Joan is so focused on finding her observer, she is a little startled when Adam takes her arm, but that contact informs her that whoever is watching her is also interested in Adam.

"First, we must go by Adam's sculpture. It is proving to be an object of great interest to our customers." Karl says as he leads the way.

As they approach the sculpture, Joan finds the group that is giving them a visual disection. At one of the corner tables, there are four attractive women who are trying not to be obvious as they carefully examine every inch of her and Adam. Joan begins to feel annoyed by such close scrutiny with no apparent reason. Of course if she weren't able to read people, she really wouldn't be aware of the interest.

"Here it is, Jane." Adam says as he waits expectantly for Joan's response.

Joan gives the sculpture a quick look, and is impressed. It is much in the style of Adam's earlier work with recycled items, but the lines of the piece draw in the viewer and capture the imagination. Joan wishes she wasn't so distracted by those rude women so she could enjoy the piece more.

"Oh Adam, it's beautiful. You've definitely grown as an artist since coming to Berkeley." Joan replies while pretending to continue to look at the sculpture. Instead, she has decided to give these women a taste of their own medicine.

Joan closes off all stimuli from the rest of the room and focuses all of her ability on these four women. The experience is intense, almost overwhelming, but Joan quickly gets a sense of who these women are. As a group they are intelliegent, devoted to each other and oddly, share a strong sense of justice. The first woman who comes through clearly to Joan is the closest, an African-American woman who is by a few years the oldest of the group. Joan barely notices the mom vibe, and the inclinations toward medicine and science. From this woman Joan recieves such a wave of empathy, she actually flashes on a mental image - something very rare for her. At the center of this woman's life is a man in a wheelchair, undoubtedly her husband. The emotions that accompany this along with her own experiences with Kevin are too much, and Joan blocks anything more from this source.

In the next woman, Joan finds a sense of familiarity. This is strange as outwardly she is a beautiful platinum blonde who wears her hair boyishly short, and dresses at the height of fashion. No, the familiarity is in interests - she's a lawyer,and just as Joan hopes to be - some sort of prosecutor. There the similarity ends, for this woman has a lot of daddy issues, abandonment issues, and overwhelmingly, trust issues. (Well, okay, there they might share a similarity). This is a woman who likes men, but fears to make commitments because she is certain she will be hurt.

Joan moves on to the third woman, and if this group of friends can be said to have a leader, it is her. Joan immediately reads 'cop' from this strikingly beautiful woman with the long, lovely black hair. She gives off a certain mannish vibe, but this is by choice, not inclination. In her male dominated world, femininity would be seen as weakness, and this beauty has a need to be very strong. She is a very sensual being, but is currently experiencing a moderately high level of sexual frustration. ('So, I'm not the only one who's not getting any.') Part of the reason is the woman is recovering from a broken heart. A vastly important relationship has failed, probably a marriage, and she has not fully recovered from that. And there is the spiritual cocoon within her. It is a source of pain so deep, so soul shattering, the woman simply refuses to deal with it. So, she has placed layer after layer of denial around her pain, probably by burying herself in her work. Joan feels she has violated this woman's privacy to such an extent, she is ashamed.

Before she can turn it off, the last woman's inner being becomes clear to Joan. At least she is a little easier to deal with. The youngest of the group, probably no more than a couple of years out of college, she is focused on getting her life on track. These slightly older women are important to her not just as friends, but as role models, especially the beautiful cop. The petite red-head looks to the cop not only as a mentor, but also as a potential source of...? Here there is a lot of confusion. The red-head has a crush on the lady cop, and this is utterly new in her life experience. She hasn't a clue how to proceed, or even if she should, or even if she really wants to. Poor, confused girl - walking a tightrope over a sea of possiblities...

Joan feels a tug on her arm and snaps back to normal - or at least as normal as she can be these days. Adam guides her, and she realizes they have reached their booth in the opposite corner. Above the booth is Adam's mural. It is a French cafe scene with an artist sketching a beautiful girl. The artist is Adam, and the girl is her. Joan stares dumbfounded at such an amazing scene. She feels...immortalized. She also feels an intense renewal of her desire for Adam. Beyond Adam's good looks and pleasant nature, one of his biggest attractions has always been his skill as an artist. Back in high school, the first time Joan considered moving Adam from the category of weird pal to potential boyfriend was after she realized how talented he is. She has always found that talent a definite turn on, and never more so than now.

As Karl leaves them the menus, bows and withdraws, Joan takes Adam's hand and smiles at him in a warm and inviting manner.

"Adam...this is so amazing. I love your mural. You made it of me, even though we've been fighting for months?"

"I wasn't sure how things would go with us Jane, but I knew that I never wanted to forget how much you mean to me. It had to be you in this work. No one else could ever take your place in my heart."

Joan sniffles slightly, and feels so silly for being weepy, especially when she wants to impart how hot this makes her. But this thought makes her feel a little guilty. Wow, she really does have a lot of issues. To cover her mixed feelings, Joan remarks...

"I should have sent you an updated photo so you could have included my new look. Uh, you didn't say if you liked it."

Adam smiles, recognizing a classic pitfall. "I think you were beautiful with long hair and gold streaks, and I think you're beautiful with shorter hair and no streaks."

"Yeah, I figured that old look was soo high school. You, by the way, look great."

"I...haven't changed."

"Which is why you look great." Joan says as she notices Otto being waved over by the group of four women. What is with this bunch of buttinskis? The beautiful cop briefly flashes her badge, and Otto, with a slightly guilty look, begins answering questions from the women.

Joan continues, "Uh, a work like this must have earned you a bundle."

"Not really. I'm still trying to make a name for myself, and having a permanent display here for my work will gain me a lot of attention. Dean Bloom recommended I take the job even though Otto was only willing to pay five hundred."

"The dean is giving you personal career advice?"

"Yeah, he's been really great with me, and has been like a personal mentor. If I have any level of success as an artist, David Bloom will get a lot of the credit. Without him, I wouldn't even be at Berkeley..." Adam says with a touch of guilt.

"Adam, we've argued that out too many times. Let's not go over that old ground again."

Adam squeezes her hand, and Joan senses there are a lot of unresolved issues for him too. "Jane, God knows I don't want to, but if we're going to have any chance of making it as a couple, we have to settle this."

For just a moment, one part of Joan suggests being a couple isn't important. Put it to him bluntly. This visit is a bootie call. Joan sighs, knowing she can never reduce this important moment in her life to somehting so crass. Way to go Mom, you really turned me into a 'good girl'.

"Alright Adam, let's get it over with. I know you had the opportunity of a life time handed to you on a silver platter. I know you had to take it, and time was a critical factor. That doesn't change the fact you left town without saying a word to me. I had to learn my boyfriend was all the way across the country the next day from your father. That was humiliating, and yes, I know some of my anger was due to being so embarrassed."

"I did leave a message in your voice mail."

"Yeah, four words: 'We need to talk'. I figure you were on your way to the airport by the time you sent that. I guess thinking of me at the last possible second is better than nothing. Too bad I was so busy...with something else. I didn't check my messages until the next morning." Joan says, remembering an assignment from God was what had kept her so occupied.

"Jane, I really am sorry about how I handled that day - well, actually just a few hours. It was a time of rushed madness, and so I guess it must seem I wasn't thinking of you, but even if my mind was briefly distracted, you were always at the center of my heart. Now...from my perspective, although I was willing to accept a lot of blame and anger from you, because I deserved it, it really hurt me that you couldn't seem to let it go."

Joan blushes and hangs her head low. She really didn't want to be doing this. "My fault. My problem. What happened just stirred up a lot of bad memories and...trust issues."

Adam sighs. "Bonnie again. Are we ever going to get beyond that one mistake?"

Joan looks at Adam, she has tears in her eyes. Adam gulps and feels miserable. The last thing he wanted to do was to make her cry.

"Jane..."

"No Adam, don't apologize. Not again. We've both been wrong about a lot of things, but this is my hang up...well, one of many. I love you Adam. No matter what else goes on between us, past or future, that will never change."

Adam smiles and brushes a single tear from Joan's cheek. "I will love you Jane, forever..."

They lean in and share a long kiss. When they part, Adam smiles again and so does Joan, but she asks...

"How many women did you sleep with?"

Adam blushes and looks away. Joan feels like her heart is in her throat. This might be a big mistake, but she has to know...

"Adam, I know I was the one who said we should date other people. I'm sure a guy as sexy as you had lots...and lots of opportunities. I don't really have a right to ask, but I'm asking anyway. I can't promise I won't be mad or upset, but please tell me."

Adam sighs heavily. Joan can feel him struggling with his answer, but also knows he is going to say the truth...

"Two."

"Two...?" Joan repeats, feelingly oddly relieved. Joan exhales, realizing she has been holding her breath. That is so much better than what she was thinking. Only two? She should be angry or upset, but considering she virtually gave him permission to cheat...

"Were you in love with them?"

"No. it was just sex. Sort of casual, and neither relationship lasted long. Jane..."

"Adam, it's okay."

"It is?'

Joan nods, and Adam blurts out... "What about you?"

"There was some dating, but no mating."

"None? Then, you're still...?"

Joan gives a short, bitter laugh. "Yeah, 'still'."

Joan feels a sense of relief sweep over Adam. So, he really does care whether or not he's...first. For one brief second, an old Abbot & Costello routine pops into Joan's head: 'Who's on first?' This time the answer will be, Adam Rove.

"Excuse me...?" a female voice says.

Joan looks up and recognizes the cute red-head from the group of women. They have all left the restaurant, but this one seems persistent.

"Hi, I'm Cindy Thomas, a reporter with the San Francisco Register. I understand you're the artist who created this wonderful mural? Well, of course you are since both of you are the subjects of the work. May I join you for just a moment? I'd love a chance to talk about your work."

Joan shoots daggers of annoyance at the woman, but Adam smiles and waves her into an empty chair.

"Yes, I'm Adam Rove, and I recently finished this work. It's based on a sketch I did back when I was in high school. The owner of this restaurant liked it so much, and thought it fit the decor so easily, he agreed to have me paint it."

"It's wonderful that an aspiring artist such as yourself can get such a lucky break. You know, I might be able to get my editor to do a public interest feature for the arts section. Wouldn't that be exciting. And you Miss...sorry, I didn't get your name."

Joan senses a lot of deceit in this woman's approach of them. "I didn't give it, and if you're some reporter for the style section of your paper, then you should be focused on the artist."

Adam says, "But she's not that type of reporter. Cindy Thomas is the name of the crime reporter for the Register. What are you up to?"

The woman 'Cindy' blushes at having been caught in a lie. "You know my name? I've only been the Register's crime reporter for a few weeks."

Adam replies, "I have an eidectic memory. I recall everything I read."

Cindy chuckles slightly. "Wow, what are the odds? I have the same gift, but this is the first time it has been used against me. Okay, full confession time. My friends and I were playing a little game of speculation about the two of you. I'm sorry, I know that is kinda rude, but we meant no harm. You see one of my friends is..."

"A cop." Joan says.

"Yes, how did you know?"

"I saw her flash her badge at Otto when you pumped him for information. You know, using police powers for personal games is a violation of regulations."

A look of panic crosses Cindy's face. "Oh please, we meant no harm. Lindsay..."

The young woman comes to a halt, realizing she has just revealed her friend's name.

"Relax, I'm the daughter of a cop, and I don't go about casually reporting minor infractions. So, this Lindsay thinks she's good at sizing people up, and you three were challenging her to do a sort of Sherlock Holmes test on Adam and me?"

"How...how did you know that? Did you hear us?"

"No, but you were lot more obvious than you seem to realize when you were doing your bug-under-a-microscope routine."

Adam adds, "Jane is pretty good at sizing people up herself. So, there's no chance this is leading to an interview about my art?"

Cindy shrugs. "Sorry. I promise I will mention you to our arts editor, but after that...?"

"In that case, I need to speak to Otto about something. If you ladies will excuse me?" Adam says as he rises and heads for Otto. Joan senses there is something confrontational going on between those two, but decides not to intrude.

Cindy says, "Your friend really is a gifted artist. I wish I could offer him an interview, but I'm new at my job and still trying to impress my boss with my crime reporting. By the way, I notice Adam calls you Jane, but Otto was pretty sure your name is Joan, and you're from Arcadia Maryland?"

"Still trying to dig into my privacy? You must want to impress your friends a lot to continue with this."

Cindy smiles. "Adam was right, you are good at sizing people up. I guess I am a little ambitious to gain some respect from my friends, as I'm rather new to the club...I mean, group."

Joan can tell Cindy is nervous about her little slip, but she isn't going to press the matter. She really should just dismiss this distraction and get back to her evening, but after probing the souls of these women so intensely, she feels a connection and a responsibility.

"It is quite an impressive group of women. For instance, your cop friend is one of the most beautiful women I've ever seen - which is not to say all of you aren't lovely - but no men?"

Cindy shrugs. "It was a lady's night out. Claire is married, and Jill has a boyfriend, but neither Lindsay or I are currently dating anyone."

Joan smiles sympathetically. "Hit a dry spell?"

"I just don't seem to have time for dating any more."

"And...you're keeping yourself open in case an opportunity arises with Lindsay?"

"What? That's absurd. I don't think of Lindsay that way... Is it really that obvious?"

"You do a fair job of keeping it hid, but like I said, I'm good at sizing people up. Your cop friend probably thinks you're just hero worshipping her. I doubt she suspects the way your feelings are leaning."

Cindy holds her face in her hands for a moment while she regains her composure. "I just don't understand how this happened. I've never felt this way about another woman before."

"Never?"

"Well, I made out with another girl at a college party once..."

Joan shrugs. "Who hasn't?"

"But until I met Lindsay, I really never thought about another woman like that. Even now, I'm not sure if it is something I would want to happen. It's like one of those threshold lines you can't go back from."

Joan, thinking of her own threshold ahead of her, nods her agreement. "You know, your friend is totally straight."

"Are you sure? I know she was married, but..."

"That tough guy vibe of hers is for the job only. If you made an approach, it would go badly, and it would strain your relationship."

Cindy sighs. "I kind of figured that. But what do I do? It's not like I'm panting after her twenty-four/seven, but these thoughts keep coming back."

"I hear that lots and lots and lots of sex with someone else often clears the mind of wayward thoughts. When was your last relationship?"

"Like I said, who has time to date?"

"When I said lots of sex, I wasn't suggesting you become an unpaid 'ho. I mean an actual care for someone, trust someone, bed down with someone regularly, relationship."

"Oh, well...huh, I guess it has been about a year and a half. Shortly after my Dad died, I broke up with my last serious boyfriend."

Joan mentally kicks herself. How did she miss that? Cindy has deep trust issues of her own with guys because the last one hurt her so badly at the same time she was suffering her father's loss. No wonder she is so scared of trusting her heart to another man.

"The boyfriend wasn't there for you when you really needed him?"

Cindy gulps and a few tears start as she recalls this painful time. "My Dad...was my world. I was his little girl no matter how old I got, and he was this source of unwavering love. I...I thought I had found that again with my jerk of a boyfriend. It turned out, he was only in it for the good times. When I got weepy and needed someone to lean on, it was 'too heavy' for him to deal with. He...ran away like I was toxic."

Joan hands Cindy a tissue as the red-head weeps. It is a good type of cry - very cathartic. Joan takes a moment to check on Adam, who is near the front of the restaurant having a heated exchange with Otto. They aren't making a scene, but even at this distance, Joan can tell there are some harsh feelings growing between the two. Joan's thoughts are interrupted by Cindy.

"Thank you...Joan?" (Joan nods.) "This has really helped me. Wow, I feel like I've been through a month of therapy...not that I've ever..."

"Some of the best people have gone through therapy. You're welcome, Cindy. I hope everything goes well with you."

Cindy nods and stands, recognizing the equivalent of: 'Our time is up'. She walks away, her soul lightened and her path clearer. Joan smiles, and marks this as her good deed for the day. Immediately the thought comes to her that no good deed goes unpunished. At the front of the restaurant, Adam has ended his conversation with Otto and turns to walk away. He literally bumps into Cindy. There are apologies and smiles. A few words are exchanged and Cindy hands him her business card. Briefly, her hand rests on Adam's arm. It is a clear moment of flirtation, and Joan bristles. Hey, when I said find someone to have lots of sex with, I didn't mean my boyfriend! Adam is enough of a guy to appreciate such a pretty young woman taking an interest in him. He smiles back and says something that makes Cindy both laugh and blush. Worse, as Adam walks away, heading back to Joan, he glances over his shoulder and sees Cindy watching him. She smiles again and exits.

Joan grits her teeth and all but growls her anger and jealousy. He does this on a date with her? Adam Rove, I don't care how much I want sex, you couldn't get me to go home with you tonight if you begged!

To Be Continued. Please review.

The other side of the first meeting of Joan and the members of the Women's Murder Club can be found in my story, BURDEN OF THE BADGE. The possible interest of reporter Cindy Thomas in Inspector Lindsay Boxer was never established in the series, but it is a favorite topic of fanfiction stories, so I have included a slight aspect of that in this story.


	3. Chapter 3

PART THREE

7-2-07/Monday morning.

Joan jogs along breathing hard and off of her stride. Every lap around Alamo Square seems to take forever as Joan finds it impossible to focus on her task. Her mind continually drifts back to the events of last night…

Adam picked up on her sudden change of attitude, but being a guy he was clueless about why Joan was now cold and angry. (And she certainly wasn't going to tell him!) Adam took it in stride, chalking it up to Joan's not uncommon moodiness. Frustrating.

As the evening progressed, Adam remained calm, polite and charming. He talked of his classes, and his impression of living in the bay area. He even introduced Joan to a couple more of Otto's nephews who worked at the café. Joan noticed that Hans their waiter and Frederick their busboy seemed unhappy with their lot in life. Fredrick, the youngest, seemed particularly dissatisfied with how his future looked, but apparently had few options before him. Adam explained that Otto, while outwardly a jovial guy, was a notorious cheapskate who didn't hesitate to exploit his family by paying them subpar wages while promising that when he eventually retired, he would share ownership of the restaurant with his nephews.

It was this tight-fisted way with money that was also the cause of friction between Otto and Adam. The five hundred dollars that Otto was suppose to pay for the mural consisted of a hundred down and the rest upon completion. But Otto was trying to renegotiate the deal and have Adam take out the balance in trade. Their 'free' meal was a part of that new deal. Adam was upset about this arrangement as he always needed money, and explained that he and Otto have been arguing for days over the new payment plan. What was Adam to do? Non-confrontational by nature, Adam could hardly take the mural with him, and he did not want to get entangled in a court battle.

Of course Joan sympathized with Adam, and that helped ease her annoyance. As she thought about it, Joan decided she was over reacting to Adam's mild flirtatiousness with a pretty girl who was obviously interested in him. Guys did stuff like that. As Kate Bloom observed, they thought with their joysticks. Joan decided to let it go, even though she maintained a fair amount of anger toward Cindy Thomas. She went out of her way to help the young reporter, and is repaid by the red-head flirting with her boyriend. Wasn't it obvious she and Adam are a happy couple? Wasn't it…?

A disturbing doubt entered Joan's head. Cindy didn't seem to be the sort who went about breaking up couples. Maybe, to her, the Girardi/Rove relationship looked like it was sputtering to an end? Maybe Cindy was right. Joan's excessive agitation at such a minor moment of flirting revealed the fatal flaw that has existed between her and Adam ever since Bonnie. Trust. Trust. Trust. Burned once, always shy. Joan realizes that no matter how much she loves Adam, she will never fully trust him. In fact…

Joan stops jogging and stands perfectly still as she is startled by a personal revealation. As she catches her breath, Joan realizes it has been some time since she has heard her tutor's lecture. She looks about and sees him standing at the edge of the park, peacefully gazing at the sky. He wears a rare smile. Joan walks over to him and looks up…

"Hey, forget something?"

The angel looks down at her and his smile disappears. "You weren't in another bedroom this morning, so I assumed you were willing to train, but why bother? Even your usual level of minimal attention is missing."

"I have a lot on my mind."

"You are indulging your physical sensations at the cost of your spiritual gifts."

Joan wants to deny this, but there is too much truth in his statement. By the time Adam walked her to the door and kissed her goodnight, erotic imagery was dominating her thoughts. The kiss was wonderful, but she wanted so much more. As for Adam, she could not read if he really wanted a serious relationship, a quick roll in the hay or if he was just indulging the hometown virgin for old time's sake. She couldn't read him because her libido was standing in the way.

Joan sighs. "Should we try again?"

"No, you have attracted enough attention for the day."

Joan looks over her shoulder and notices a curtain quickly closing at Florene's house. Joan sighs. Either Florene or Kate Bloom has been watching her talk to an invisible giant. No doubt they will soon be asking her if she is off her meds...

X X X X X

At the San Francisco Register, Cindy Thomas has finished reading the morning crime reports, and is about to start her day of rushing from crime scenes, to police stations and to court rooms. She hesitates at her desk as she recalls the wonderfully erotic dream she had last night. The first such dream she has had in many months. The fact that it was about Adam Rove causes a stab of guilt at her conscience. That Joan girl, with her amazing insights, helped her more in a few minutes than nearly a year of therapy. It is all so clear now. Her 'crush' on Lindsay Boxer was just her subconcious way of denying her fear and pain when it came to starting again with a new guy. The thought of a real relationship with a new man had paralyzed her, and her way of denying that obvious truth was to imagine an erotic fantasy with her beautiful new friend. Cindy now realizes that if that fantasy had begun to come true, if Lindsay had made a pass at her, she would have run like a scared mouse.

Now, Cindy faces a new and some what troubling situation. Her renewed sexual energy feels like a dam burst, and she is being swept along with it. Her embarrrassing admission last night to the ladies of the club that if an artist like Adam painted her portrait like that mural, she would instantly jump his bones is an example of how she feels. Yes, Cindy feels a desperate need to have her 'portrait painted'. But there are problems. For one, Adam must be at least two years younger than her, and she has never dated a younger guy before. Ehh, no big deal. But then there is Joan. Even though Cindy is sure Joan's relationship with Adam is a train wreck that is about to happen, she will not knowingly try to break them up. Still, when it occurs, she must act fast. A guy like Adam Rove won't be on the market for long, and Cindy wants to make certain she is first in line.

Cindy turns to her computer and googles, 'Adam Rove, Arcadia Maryland'. Let's see...only child of Carl and Elizabeth Rove, three time winner of his city's high school competition for art students...Arrested. Cindy reads in disbelief of a report of stolen art supplies by Adam from the hometown newspaper where he was working. That doesn't sound like the guy she met last night. Wait, a follow up - charges dropped when it was proved Adam was framed by his employer, a man named Ryan Hunter...

Cindy's eidectic memory clicks in. A girl named Joan and the city of Arcadia and Ryan Hunter... Girardi! Yes, that was the name. Cindy does a quick search on Joan and finds the amazing tale of a high school senior who figured out that a respected community leader was actually a domestic terrorist who was attacking religious targets. Somehow Joan figured it all out, gathered evidence and when she convinced the authorities to act, Hunter killed himself in an explosion. Wow. Lindsay was right when she said this Joan girl had seen a lot of weird stuff and had to grow up fast and hard. Quickly, Cindy creates a recap file and sends it to Lindsay, Jill and Claire. Now, on with her day...

X X X X X

Joan's day is spent as a tourist in this beautiful city. She and Adam travel to Ghiradelli Square and walk hand in hand admiring the views before going by cable car to Fisherman's Wharf, where they spend most of the day. Adam, who hasn't seen many of the city's sights himself, goes out of his way to be charming and romantic. As they are amused by street performers, take in the wax museum and view a couple of old sailing ships, Adam draws Joan out about her life since their time apart. Joan finds herself confessing that on her very recent visit to Los Angeles, her old boyfriend Dylan Hunter proposed marriage. Adam is taken aback by this, but is reassured by Joan's statement that although she has many tender feelings for Dylan, she couldn't see them working as a couple in the long term.

They continue with a tour of an old World War Two submarine, which fascinates the mechanically inclined Adam. After a fabulous lunch at a Chinese restaurant, they take a cruise of the bay, which includes travel under the Golden Gate Bridge and a trip around Alacatraz Island. Adam suggests taking a tour of the old prison, but the intense spiritual pain that lingers there is something Joan doesn't want to deal with. Later, they spend a long time at the city's Aquarium of the Bay, viewing the amazing assortment of marine life. Through all of these activities they hold hands, whisper and giggle little private love jokes and frequently share kisses.

That evening, after a dinner at one of the city's seemingly endless supplies of great restaurants, Adam and Joan go to a little jazz club that is a favorite of his. Jazz isn't a particular favorite of Joan's, but she enjoys the music because she knows it means so much to Adam. As their night is drawing to a close, they walk together into the BART station to catch the last train of the day back to Berkeley. It has been a perfect day, and Joan knows Adam has made a special effort to re-establish their trust and romantic connection. Normally, she would be moved to tears by Adam's kind, thoughtful attention to her. Normally. But today, she is just pissed.

All day long, while Adam has been sweet and romantic, Joan has been going crazy with desire. She has done her best to be as obvious of her needs as she could without actually begging for sex. She has tried all she knows to build a fire deep in the loins of her boyfriend while he has been intent on being a perfect gentleman. Damn. On the submarine, which required some ladder climbing, she made certain Adam followed her so he could look up her skirt. ('Hey big boy, notice the thong? That's for you.') At the Chinese restaurant, she found several excuses to lean over the table so Adam could get a close look at her cleveage. At the jazz club, she rubbed her leg up against his, but apparently Adam thought she was tapping her foot to the music. What did it take? Now at the train station, it was her last chance to persuade Adam to invite her back to his place...

"I had a wonderful day, Adam. A wonderful evening too."

"So did I, Jane. I think I will remember this day for the rest of my life."

"Yes, a great day, a great evening, a...great night?"

Adam smiles at her and gently caresses her cheek. "Well, I have to catch my train or I'll be stuck on this side of the bay."

Joan suppresses a groan. He isn't going to ask her! Maybe she will have to beg. Adam leans in for yet another one of their 'sweet' kisses. Not this time, buddy. Joan throws her arms around Adam, and kisses him with all the passion she can muster. Her tongue darts in and out of his mouth while she presses hard against his body. Joan's spiritual senses may be completely dulled at the moment by her...lust, but she doesn't need them to sense the way Adam is stirring...

They part and Joan gives him a shy smile. Now, be a guy. Ask me back to your place.

Adam gulps hard. "See...see you tomorrow."

Joan watches in horror as Adam rushes to the train and waves goodbye as the doors close. Pathetically, Joan waves back as the train pulls away. What the hell? Why? Joan turns and walks toward the bus stop, a few tears of sadness and frustration falling from her eyes. What was wrong? He wanted her, she knew that - felt that. Well sure, with enough friction and sluttiness, you could stir any guy, but that didn't mean he really wanted you. Maybe this was her fault? Maybe Adam was turned off by her non-stop agressiveness during the day? Some guys were like that. Actually, most of them wanted the traditional role of the persuer.

As Joan rides the bus back to Alamo Square, she sighs heavily several times as she tries to think clearly about what went wrong, and what she should do to correct the situation. The problem is, she can't think clearly. Ever since arriving in town, Joan has experienced a sort of...damburst of released sexual frustration. For years, she has been following the 'good girl' rules taught to her by her Mom, with all of those traditional Catholic family values included. Now, she doesn't want to be the good girl. She wants to be bad. She wants to do wild, naughty things with Adam Rove, whom she knows to have an intense libido. So why now has he decided to play the perfect gentleman? The answer comes to Joan, but she doesn't like it. Adam is taking this very seriously. He's putting away his guy instincts in order to focus on relationship first and sex a distant second place. Normally, Joan's heart would be bursting with joy at such a development. Normally.

As Joan gets off the bus, she decides she must rethink her gameplan. Either she must go along with Adam's approach, or swallow her pride and bluntly ask for a deflowering. Still lost in a fog of sexual intensity, the begging for sex idea does seems the best option. Maybe then she can finally think about their relationship. Speaking of fog, it is rolling in again and Joan can barely see her path as she makes way back to Florene's place. The sidewalk is deserted and she is alone, until suddenly, she isn't. In front of her are two young men who are as startled as Joan by their sudden encounter. Joan realizes, she is in danger. These two men, drug addicts by the look of them, act as a team, and a pair of demons also acts as a team in influencing them. Joan berates herself for being so dull witted. If her spiritual self was on track, she would have been aware of this danger long before she actually met these two face to face.

The two men recognize Joan, the slip of a girl they ran away from, and still don't know why. Once again they feel an unexplainable edginess, but this time stubborn pride will keep them from running. Hands slip into pockets for hidden weapons. Joan knows she is at risk, fighting two men was hard enough, but under the influence of demons they would be ruthless and deadly. As the two men whip out sharp knives, Joan pulls from her bag the silver cross personally given to her by God. The demons seeing this can take no more. Screeching in fear, they abandon their humans, preferring to wander the darkness alone to being cast into hell. The two men, able to freely think for the first time in years, stand still as they both are suddenly struck by the thought: 'How did my life end up like this'?

Joan walks between them unmolested.

X X X X X

7-3-07/Tuesday morning.

Joan completes her run under the watchful eye of her tutor, who is still refraining from further demonology lectures. As Joan catches her breath, she looks up for any response to her improved effort this morning.

"Ten more laps."

Joan nods and begins to run again. Coach Keating could take a few lessons from her personal trainer. As she runs, Joan knows she has been making a fool of herself, not just with Adam, but before her tutor. She wonders if he sometimes laughs at her behind her back. Poor pathetic human, led by your hormones like a puppet on a string, and it almost got you killed.

"Faster."

Joan picks up the pace, sweating a lot and starting to feel a stitch in her side. Okay, I deserve a little disciplining, but don't damage the merchandise. I still have martial arts moves to practice. The extra laps go by, and when she comes to a stop again, Joan collapses on the ground, breathing hard.

"No...lecture?" Joan gasps.

"What would be the point? You seem unable to retain the lessons you have already received. Allowing yourself to get into such a disgusting state of inattention, you had to literally bump into the demon influenced in order to notice them!"

"We...didn't bump. Just...came close. Were you watching? Thanks for the help."

"I am not your bodyguard. I am not your moral guide."

"Hey, don't judge me. You may have witnessed humanity forever, but you don't have a clue what it's like to have one of these bodies, and all the stuff we have to deal with."

"Perhaps not, but I have witnessed those of your calling for thousands of years. I have seen them struggle with their baser natures. I have seen the ripples when they allowed themselves to become weak. I know the suffering it can cause."

"Suffering? Hey, I'm..."

"On vacation. Yes, I know. I also know you have a calling and a duty to our God. Both of which you are ignoring while you persue this hormonal quest."

"Am I hearing a suggestion?"

"Abandon the quest."

"Not gonna happen."

"Then complete it quickly and return to duty before you or someone else pays the price." the angel says before walking away.

Joan staggers to a park bench and catches her breath as she considers her tutor's advice. He's right, she is out of control and needs to reel herself in. Joan begins to softly meditate, using a favored bible verse as her mantra. As she becomes more centered, Joan once again feels that close connection to the board of life. Now, if she can only keep her libido under control...

"Good morning Cousin Florene."

Florene Donnelly stops a few feet short of Joan. She wonders how Joan knew it was her as she kept her approach quiet and Joan still hasn't opened her eyes... "Uh, good morning Joan."

Joan opens her eyes and smiles. "I know you and Kate have been watching me in the park, and that you've been concerned by my odd behavior."

"We've noticed that you seem to be speaking to someone who...isn't here. I thought maybe you were praying...?"

"Sometimes I pray, sometimes I gripe at God and sometimes I just commune with God's creation." Joan says as she waves her hand toward the sky. "Just now, I was meditating."

Florene breathes a sigh of relief. Joan sounds calm and lucid, and certainly Florene knows lots of people who meditate. She sits next to Joan. "How are you doing, Joan? I've noticed the last two nights you've seemed...stressed when you returned home."

"I've got guy trouble."

Florene smiles. "I'll gladly give you what advice I can, but my experience in this area is limited. I stopped dating guys in high school when I realized there wasn't a snowball's chance in hell that I would ever want to sleep with one."

"Well, I want to sleep with one - a lot, but we seem to have mixed signals."

"How so?"

"Our usual roles are reversed. We were always traditional with Adam the persuer and me the persued. He was the guy with his priorities being sex then relationship, and me the other way around. Now, I want sex."

"And what about relationship?"

"I...don't know. For the first time I can't see what I want beyond the physical. Maybe, once that's out of the way, I can finally see clearly where Adam and I stand as a couple."

Florene thinks a moment before replying. "It does sound like you've reversed roles. I've always wondered how men can compartmentalize sex and love. In a committed relationship they equate sex with love, but without that loving commitment, sex is just sex. Perhaps, Adam is reluctant to risk his heart when the girl he loves is consumed by...just sex. If you made it more clear to Adam exactly what you want...?"

Joan sighs. "But I'm not sure. I love Adam, and I certainly want to sleep with him, but I'm scared of making a full commitment one more time. I don't think we can endure another failure. I don't want Adam gone from my life because we tried to make it work one time too many."

"Then perhaps, and I'm sorry to say this dear, you shouldn't persue a more intimate relationship with a friend so precious."

Joan nods, figuring that's two and a half votes against getting closer. One from her tutor, one from Florene and half a vote from herself. Unfortunately, the other half of her is still voting an emphatic, YES!

X X X X X

At mid-morning, Adam picks Joan up for another day on the town. At the very first Joan is focused and alert to her spiritual connections, and can read Adam clearly. That quickly fades after their first kiss. Desire arises again in Joan, and she finds the more she tries to suppress her passion, the more she dwells on it. At least at the start, Joan reads what she expects to find in Adam. He does love her, but much of that is mixed with the feelings they share as each other's first love. Like her, Adam is very nervous about the ripples of another try at relationship. But, he does desire her, even if he is in much better control of his libido than Joan. (Of course, he isn't a virgin who feels like she will explode if she doesn't have sex soon.) One troubling thing Joan manages to read just as her gift starts to fade...Adam is keeping a secret from her. He considers it important, and is desperate she not find out. Unfortunately, Joan can read no more.

Joan has agreed to spend the day touring art museums in the hope that the excitement Adam feels at such times will translate into a more excited attitude toward her. It takes all of Joan's willpower (and the occasional trip to the ladies room to splash cold water on her face) to keep from repeating her overly flirtatious ways of yesterday. Still, she has only moderate success in keeping her sex drive under control.

As they visit the Asian Art Museum, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art and the amazing Legion Of Honor, Joan is more focused on Adam than the masterpieces they see. Temporarily deprived of her gifts, Joan tries to use her woman's intuition to solve the riddle of what Adam truly wants from their time together, and what is the secret he is keeping? Adam is so enraptured by the works of artists like Degas, Monet, Ruebens, Rembrandt and Rodin, he doesn't notice how distracted Joan is as she looks for even tiny clues of what he is hiding from her...

Is it another woman? Adam admitted to being with two, but Joan didn't think to ask about whether Adam is involved with someone else. Someone he hasn't slept with yet, but is hoping to. Maybe Adam is hoping not to have to make a choice between the treasured hometown girlfriend who is in town for a week and the new hottie he plans to bed soon. Maybe, if he can time it out right, he plans to do them both? These jealous thoughts begin to dominate Joan's mind, and almost drive out her desire for immediate sex. Almost.

After the museums and another delicious dinner, they attend an 'R' rated romantic comedy, but their date remains 'PG'...hand holding and a few simple kisses. By the time they are back at the BART station, this time at a much earlier hour, Joan has decided to abandon her quest. Adam is indeed a precious friend, and clearly he isn't into this as much as she is. Joan doesn't want to pressure Adam into a decision they may both regret...

"Another wonderful day, Jane."

"Yes, it was great. Really. Uh..."

"Jane, I was thinking, instead of us spending another day in San Francisco, maybe you'd like to come over to Berkeley tomorrow?"

"Berkeley? And we would...?"

"I'd love to show you the campus."

"Oh. Just the campus?"

"And my apartment, if you'd like."

Joan smiles. "Yes, I'd love that."

Adam smiles back, takes her into his arms and gives Joan a passionate kiss. She responds eagerly. They part with a sigh of pleasure and a tingle of excitement.

"Tomorrow around noon? I'll meet you at the BART station."

"Nothing can keep me away."

Adam nods and goes to the train, and as it pulls out, he waves. This time Joan waves back with enthusiasm. Yes, finally! Tomorrow...

To Be Continued. Please review.


	4. Chapter 4

PART FOUR

7-4-07/Wednesday, Independence Day.

Bay Area Rapid Transit deposits Joan safe and sound at the Berkeley station right at noon. Adam is waiting, and they immediately enjoy a wonderfully passionate kiss. Once again Joan feels her spiritual connection fading in the face of so much hormonal overdrive, but she doesn't care. The kiss tells her everything. Adam is ready and very willing. They exit the station arm-in-arm.

Keeping his word, Adam does indeed take her on a tour of the U. C. Berkeley campus, but Joan can tell by the way Adam keeps checking his watch, this tour is just a formality. He too is eager for them to be alone. They tour the botanical gardens, which are beautiful and romantic. Tney stop frequently for deep kisses and wonderfully exciting caresses. The rest of the campus goes by quickly as it is a national holiday and everything is closed. The campus, normally containing 30,000 students, is nearly deserted. They do stop at the university's museum, and a friend of Adam's who works security allows them a quick run through of the place, but neither seems all that interested in the exhibits.

Still checking his watch, Adam finally leads Joan to his off campus studio apartment. They have come nearly full circle as the apartment is only a few blocks from the BART station. The apartment building is used exclusively by students, but there are few people home as everyone else seems to be out celebrating the day. Adam and Joan share a long kiss at his door in preparation of their own type of celebration.

"Here it is, Jane. Like I told you, it isn't much."

Joan looks at the small apartment and is pleasantly surprised. The furnishing is a little sparse, rather dormroom like, but it is clean and has good quality…everything.

"Adam, it's wonderful, and surprisingly clean considering a bachelor lives here."

"You mean two."

"Two?"

"Yeah, my room mate Wil. Remember, I described him in an e-mail I sent you shortly after I arrived here."

Joan pauses, searching her memory. "Oh yeah, that was early last September. I was…unusually distracted at the time. Wait, is it because of your room mate you haven't invited me back here before now?"

"Well, duh. I had to wait until I could get Wil out of the way. He's only taking one class this semester, and his girlfriend is back east for the summer, so he's been moping around here almost all of the time."

Joan shakes her head. It was so simple, and here she was imagining all sorts of crazy ideas as to why Adam wasn't trying to seduce her. In this small studio apartment, three was definitely a crowd.

"Uh, when are you expecting your room mate back?"

"Not until Monday. I talked it over with him, and since he was going home to San Jose for a fourth of July family barbeque, he agreed to stay away until his class on Monday."

"So, we can be alone for the rest of the week?"

"Oh yeah." Adam says as he takes Joan into his arms and kisses her. Passion quickly builds between them as caresses become intimate and eagerness overtakes them.

"Jane…are you sure this is what's right for us? I want you so much, but I don't want us to be hurt in the process. The ripples…?"

"Adam, I don't know the future, and I can't tell what this will do for our relationship, but I now I want this more than I've ever wanted anything else. Uh, where is your bed?"

Adam chuckles as Joan looks around the only large room of the place. On opposite sides of the room, there are comfortable looking futons, but no bed.

"We don't have beds, but these futons fold down to make really comfortable beds of their own. This one is mine. Help me with the sheets?"

Joan nods and Adam produces bedding from a nearby closet. They prepare the futon, and soon it looks just like a bed, although a little over-stuffed as a mattress. Adam adds a couple of pillows to complete the effect.

"Would you like something to drink? I have some wine."

"Yes…wine would be great." Joan says, suddenly feeling nervous.

As Adam enters the tiny kitchenette, Joan nervously sits on the futon. Well, this is it. What you've been waiting for. Joan remembers a time from when she was dating Dylan, when the two of them came so close… That is until she panicked and called the whole thing off at the last possible second. Joan gulps, oh please, don't let that happen now. You want this. You can do it…

"I hope white wine is okay?" Adam says as he returns and hands Joan a glass.

Joan nods as she takes a sip, coughs a bit and then drinks about half the glass down. Adam sips his own wine, smiles and takes Joan's hand.

"I know you're nervous. Everyone is the first time. I promise to be gentle, and if there is anything that is making you uncomfortable or if you want to pause for awhile, it's okay. Let me know what you like, and what you don't like. It will be okay."

Joan attempts a joke. "Only okay?"

"Well, I don't like to brag… Really Jane, just know that I love you and I only want you to be happy."

Joan nods and finishes her wine. Adam finishes his and puts their glasses on the nearby coffee table. They share a gentle, romantic kiss, and Joan begins to relax.

Adam gives her a sheepish grin. "I know this isn't very romantic, but before we start I have to…ya know."

Joan giggles. "I'll be waiting until you get back."

Adam enters the bathroom and Joan waits patiently on the futon, wondering if it would be okay if she had another glass of wine. Why not? Joan goes to the kitchenette and finds the wine in a compact refrigerator. She pours herself another glass and returns to the futon. As she sips the wine, Joan wonders what she should do. Maybe Adam expects her to undress while he is out of the room? Should she be naked when he comes back? But what if he is fully dressed? That would be awkward. On the other hand, if she stays fully dressed and he comes out naked… Joan blushes at that thought. Maybe Adam would enjoy undressing her—Dylan always did. Oh crap, she doesn't need that mental image right now. What is taking him so long? Maybe he's looking for condoms. Should she tell him she has a generous supply in her purse? Or maybe he has a ritual where he psyches himself…'up'? Joan giggles at this thought. Okay, that's enough wine.

Joan returns her half full glass to the coffee table and notices one of Adam's sketch books. It is a lot larger than the one he use to carry in high school, but with fewer pages. Curious as to what he has been working on, Joan opens the book. A naked woman. Oh…okay, Adam is an artist and occasionally does work with nudes. Joan turns the page—another naked woman. Joan begins flipping through the pages quickly and finds one naked woman after another. Dozens of them, all beautiful and sexy. Joan gulps nervously. He said there were only two. She was sure he was telling the truth.

Adam exits the bathroom, he is wearing a white tee, white boxers and white socks. Joan thinks he looks cute, but she can't help holding up the sketch book and shouting, "Adam, what the hell?"

"Jane?"

"You said there were only two!"

"That I slept with. Those are my final sketches for the portraits I've been painting."

"This is what you meant when you said you were staying at Berkeley because your work had picked up?"

"Well, yeah. What did you think?"

"That you were selling your sculptures and work like your mural."

"I wish. I've been making extra money painting some very commercial, very quickly produced boudoir type pictures. Most of those women have them done as gifts for their husbands or boyfriends."

"Oh…" Joan pauses, feeling a little foolish, but a new thought occurs. "Are those 'two' in here?"

"Jane, don't go there."

Joan nods, returns the sketch book to the coffee table, and grabs her wineglass. She downs the rest of her drink and turns back to Adam. "Okay, showtime."

Adam chuckles. "How romantic."

"Sorry. How…do we proceed?"

"Well, you could start by taking off your shoes."

Joan kicks off her shoes and smiles. "What else would you like me to take off?"

Adam smiles and comes closer. He removes the wide black belt that divides her grey skirt from her white silk blouse. Adam begins to slowly unbutton the blouse, and Joan feels a thrill run through her body. Oh yes, there would be no last moment backing out this time. When the last button is undone, she removes her blouse and tosses it aside. They tumble upon the futon, kissing passionately. Joan guides Adam's hand around to the back of her bra…

The phone rings. In unison, they groan in frustration.

"Sorry. There's no voice mail on the landline. I'll get that and then unplug it."

As Adam leaves the futon, Joan whispers, "Hurry."

Joan rests her head on the pillow and listens to Adam's side of the conversation. She can't make out the caller's words, but from the tone, it is a woman... "Hello?...Oh, it's you…This isn't a good time…What's wrong?...He did? What should we do?...It still needs a few finishing touches…Okay, I promise. I'll do it…Yeah, me too. Goodbye."

Adam turns, running his fingers through his hair. He seems agitated and very worried. He looks at Joan and a few tears appear in his eyes.

"Joan, I'm so sorry, but something has come up. There's something else I have to do."

Joan stares at Adam in disbelief. "Are you kidding me? I know what's come 'up', and the thing you have to do is me! Whatever that call was about, whatever SHE might want, I'm the one in your bed."

"Joan, it's not like that. I just really have to take care of something very important."

"More important than me? More important than this? And why am I suddenly 'Joan' again?"

"Sorry, I guess I'm not thinking clearly."

"I'll say. Are you actually kicking me out of your bed to hook up with another woman?"

"What? No, how can you think that? This is...uh, a business matter. Something I have to attend to right away."

"You were always a lousy liar Adam Rove."

"Jane, please believe me, I love you and the last thing I want is for you to go. God, you have no idea how much I want to be with you, but this is something out of my control."

Joan leaves the futon and slips on her blouse, holding it closed with her hand. She retrieves her shoes and belt with her other hand. She is furious, but a part of her wants to believe Adam. Even if there is another woman, it seems impossible he would treat her this way.

"I guess I better go."

"I'm sorry Jane. Really sorry. Look, I'll see you at Dean Bloom's birthday party this evening. Maybe, we can leave early and come back here tonight?"

Joan stares at Adam as if he has lost his mind. "So, you think I have no pride left? Goodbye Adam."

"I can walk you to the station."

"Don't bother!" Joan shouts as she exits, slamming the door as hard as she can.

X X X X X

"Wow!" Joan says for the third time. The first time was when she, Florene and kate stepped off the elevator into the ornate, golden foyer of the penthouse apartment of David Bloom. The second time was when they entered the main salon of the Bloom home - it is the biggest room Joan has ever seen in a private residence. The third 'wow' was in reaction to the spectacular view of San Francisco Bay through the sliding glass doors that lead to the rooftop terrace.

Kate Bloom chuckles, "You bet, 'Wow'. This place and that view costs David the price of a new car every month. He had a perfectly lovely home in Berkeley before he married Ashley, but it wasn't good enough for her. She wanted to live in the city where the action is. Now she spends her days shopping and her nights throwing parties or going to them."

Joan reluctantly turns from the view as Kate and Florene escort her over to their host. Joan thinks it a little odd that the two women in love are wearing identical dresses, but is too polite to say so. As for her, Joan is once again back in her little black dress. After making their way through a crowd of a hundred plus and a catering crew of over a dozen, they arrive at the birthday boy. David Bloom is a fit man with slightly greying dark hair and is about six feet tall. From the empty champagne glass he is holding, it is not hard to see he is a little buzzed.

"Happy birthday big brother." Kate says as they share a quick hug.

"Thank you, Kate. Florene, always good to see you." David says as he and Florene exchange cheek kisses.

Florene responds, "Happy birthday, David. Allow me to introduce my young cousin..."

"Oh, I know who this is. I've heard Adam talk on and on about his beautiful hometown girlfriend, and I've seen his mural. Hello Jane."

Joan shakes hands with David. "Nice to meet you, sir. Happy birthday, and...my name is actually Joan."

"Joan? I thought for sure..."

"Jane is the nickname Adam calls me, and sometimes...even he forgets." Joan says a litlle bitterly.

Florene asks, "David, when we entered we were handed this balloon. What are we suppose to do with it?"

David grumbles, "Ashley's bright idea. Guests are to tie the balloon to their present and then deposit the gift on our bed in the master suite. Black balloons with the number 50 on them! I ask you, aren't birthdays suppose to be festive occasions? What is celebratory in a reminder of approaching death? Am I wrong?"

Joan replies, "My Dad had those at his fiftieth birthday, and he was not amused."

"Exactly." David says as he exchanges his glass for a full one from the tray of a passing waiter. "Jane, I mean Joan, feel free to try the champagne, or if you think you're too young, the pink glasses contain a non-alcohol variety. Another of Ashley's ideas."

As she is tying the balloon to their gift, Kate grunts, "At least she is capable of a good idea once in a blue moon. So David, have you made the big decision? Will you become a daddy in your fifties? You know, those big teats of Ashley's will never be the same after she breast feeds."

David shakes his head. "I promised I'd tell Ashley tonight. When the fireworks begin, and everyone is on the terrace watching, I'll privately give Ashley my decision in our bedroom. Once she knows, then I'll tell my sister-slash-lawyer. I'll let you pass on the news to Charlotte."

"I haven't heard from our sister. She's still doing her psychic thing somewhere in the Rockies."

"I got a text message from her this morning wishing me a happy birthday. She thinks she is closing in on her teen runaway."

"She always thinks that, and usually she's right. Now, if you will excuse us, we live only to serve Ashley's whims." Kate says as she leads the way to the bedroom, the helium filled balloon bouncing along at every step.

"Wow!" Joan again says as they enter the master bedroom. It is a huge chamber with a 20 foot vaulted ceiling.

Kate places the gift on the enormous bed (custom made). It rests amongst dozens of other gifts - all with an attached black balloon.

Kate comments, "Yes, apparently everything in Ashley's life must be enormous, just like her boobs. Too bad her I. Q. doesn't match."

A voice from the open doorway says, "How typically 'sweet' of you, Kate."

The group turns, and it is all Joan can do not to say 'wow' again. In a very low cut pink dress and holding a matching pink glass of champagne, Ashley Bloom is an impressive sight with big hair, big diamonds, and truly the biggest breasts Joan has ever seen. They are on prominent display aided by a pushup bra that must be a marvel of engineering. Joan tries not to stare. Tries.

Florene whispers in Joan's ear, "And...they're real."

"Hello, gold-digger." Kate sneers.

"Hello bitch. Florene, at least it is good to see you again."

"You too, dear. It's a lovely party, Ashley."

"Thank you. David has a lot of friends. There are even people here who like me." Ashley says as she glares at Kate.

"Been shopping for the world's biggest crib yet?" Kate asks.

"I'm...waiting for David's answer."

"Like the good little wife you are. Remember, piss David off and get a divorce for ANY reason, you get squat."

"Yes, I remember the pre-nup you forced on me, and pleasing David is why I'm here. In honor of his birthday, he requests that we 'make an effort'."

"Since David is watching from the salon, of course I'll pretend to get along. That's as close as I'll ever come to liking you."

"Ditto."

The two women exchange a phony 'air kiss' and smile benignly before Ashley walks away - the eyes of all men and most women following her every bouncy step.

Joan wishes she could 'read' Ashley to see if she is as big of a gold-digger as Kate thinks, but her spiritual abilities are still suppressed. In the hours since she stormed out of Adam's apartment, she has been unable to calm down for more than a few minutes at a time. Constant flashes of that humiliating scene keep going through her mind. And despite her anger, confusion and annoying sexual frustration, Joan can't help but think that a lot what has been going wrong this week is her fault. 'Damn you Adam, why can't I get you out of my head, my heart and...my libido'.

Joan circulates through the party, sipping a glass of champagne (the real stuff) and enjoying that it really does tickle her nose. A couple of men flirt with her, but Joan isn't interested. There is only one guy Joan wants to find at this party. It takes her a long time, but eventually Joan tracks Adam down to a remote corner of the rooftop terrace. Joan pauses as she sees he is talking to Ashley Bloom. Joan watches them converse, and sees they have a casual manner between them. Of course they know each other since she is the wife of Adam's mentor, and they must have met several times. Still, Joan admires the way Adam avoids staring at Ashley's cleveage, even with the close proximity of that deep valley. He isn't even doing that guy thing of taking frequent sneaky peeks while pretending not to. Either Adam has more willpower than any other man here, or his respect for his mentor must be immense.

Ashley walks away looking disappointed, but soon she is surrounded by grinning men who pay the appropriate attention to her munificence. Does the woman never stand next to her husband? Joan walks over to Adam and taps him on the shoulder...

Adam turns and gulps guiltily. "Jane...you came!"

"I came with Kate and Florene to fulfill my promise to be here."

"I guess you hate me now."

"I've had times when I was fonder of you."

"I...wish I could explain. I swear, I'm not currently involved with anyone."

"Sure you are. With me."

"You mean, you're forgiving me? I thought at least you would slap my face."

In response, Joan raises her hand in a slap motion. Adam winces, but Joan stops and smiles. She lowers her hand. "If you ever do that again..."

"Never, I swear. Jane, I'm so..."

"Stop. Don't apologize."

"But I should. What I did..."

"Was a mistake. No matter what is going on, and I'm not asking, you could have handled this afternoon better. But, who am I to judge? Since arriving in town, I've made one mistake after another. I show up after nearly a year, and I just assume we can pick up right where we left off as if nothing had happened. But you've been living your life, and you should. It was unfair of me to think of you as 'on hold' until I showed up. Both of our lives are moving forward, and I shouldn't have expected you to drop everything in order to...service me."

"So, your visit was just...a bootie call?"

Joan takes Adam's hand and kisses it. "Yes."

Adam pulls his hand back. "Don't you love me anymore, Jane?"

Joan brushes Adam's hair and smiles. "Really, how can you ask? Adam, whenever I see you four things go through my head. One, I love you. Two, I'm sorry we have hurt each other so much. Three, I wish there was some way to make it work between us. And four, I want to have sex with you."

Adam smiles. "I have the exact same list."

"Except that this week I kinda got the order mixed up. It was so sweet of you to try so hard to rekindle our relationship, but I think you had as many doubts as I did. That if we tried and failed just one more time..."

"We would lose each other forever."

"Yes, you've realized that too."

"So where does that leave us, Jane?"

"A change of scenario. Adam, I'm almost twenty and I'm still a virgin. I want, no - I need to have this experience, and it might as well be with you..." Joan bites at her words, but too late - they are already out.

"Are you trying to hurt me?"

"No, no - I didn't mean it like that. I meant, that if it isn't you then yes, I'll move on and find someone else. Hopefully, it wouldn't be an experience that I look back on with regret. But Adam, I really hope it is you because I care for you so much, and it seems right that the first guy I truly loved will be...my first."

Adam pauses, considering Joan's words. "So to be clear, you're suggesting friends-with-benefits?"

"Yes. What do you say, Adam? Will you be my friend and do me the favor of deflowering me? Will you make love to me, rock my world, make me moo?"

Adam laughs. "Make you moo?"

"Sure, haven't you ever made a girl moo before?"

"I don't think so."

"Then here's your chance. Okay...?"

Adam nods. "Okay."

They smile and share a brief kiss. Hand in hand, they wander over to the railing and enjoy the view - Joan's head resting on Adam's shoulder. As they stand there, they slowly begin to talk of their lives together. They recall the good times, the cherished memories. They speak of their hopes for the future - separately. In this time their friendship grows, even as they lay to rest any more attempts at reconciliation.

As the time for the fireworks nears, almost everyone comes on to the terrace to watch. The people pack in close - too close for the intimate way they are feeling...

"Jane, should we stay for the fireworks, or..."

"Or go back to your apartment to experience some fireworks of our own? I've seen fireworks before. I'll tell Florene we're leaving, and...not to expect me back tonight."

They share a brief kiss, and Joan edges through the crowd until she gets close to her cousin. Joan wears a happy smile, and Florene seeing her smiles back, guessing why Joan is so happy. Joan opens her mouth to speak, but before she can say a word...

A gunshot rings out.

To Be Continued. Please review.


	5. Chapter 5

PART FIVE

Deputy D. A. Jill Bernhardt steps off the elevator of one of the ritziest apartment buildings in town and pauses in the huge, ornate foyer. Softly she murmurs, 'Wow.' A half dozen reporters lingering in the foyer behind the police tape spot her…

"Miss Bernhardt!"

"Do you have any comment on the murder…"

"Give her room!" a voice shouts.

Inspector Warren Jacobi lifts the police tape and Jill gratefully ducks under. As Jacobi shoos the reporters back, Jill glances around at the huge room and the spectacular view of the bay. She also spots reporter Cindy Thomas out on the terrace interviewing a witness. How does she always manage to get by the police lines? Hey, isn't that the artist guy from the other night, and aww, Cindy is flirting with him. Jacobi rejoins her…

Jill says, "Thanks for the assist. The jackals seem hungrier than usual."

Jacobi replies, "So far, the press only has the news that prominent educator and art expert David Bloom has been murdered."

"And on his birthday?"

"A real Yankee Doodle Dandy. Did you notice the handful of black balloons in the foyer?" Jacobi asks with obvious annoyance.

Knowing Lindsay's partner is turning 50 soon, Jill quickly says, "Yes, and what a terrible idea for a birthday party."

Jacobi nods and points toward a door. "Lindsay and Claire are waiting in the master bedroom. I'm still co-ordinating witness statements."

Jill heads toward the door, and a uniformed officer opens it for her. The room is huge and Jill wonders if the Blooms ever do anything on a small scale. Jill sees her two friends, Dr. Claire Washburn (medical examiner) and Inspector Lindsay Boxer. A black plastic body bag is being loaded onto a stretcher by a crew from the morgue.

"Hey Jill, they tapped you for this?" Lindsay asks.

Jill nods. "My supervisor thought of me right away. Denise never seems to mind disturbing my holidays."

Claire remarks, "I've noticed Ms Kwan isn't too fond of you. Do you want to see the body before we take it away?"

Jill sighs. It was part of the job, and it helped her to connect to the victim. "Uh, 'want to' is a little strong…"

Jill steps closer and Claire unzips the bag revealing David Bloom. He has a bullet hole in the center of his forehead. Quickly Jill turns away as Lindsay hands her a barf bag. Jill suffers a little throw up and wipes her mouth with a tissue. Lindsay hands her a mint. It is an established routine.

Lindsay says, "By now you should be use to this."

"That's…something I never want to get use to." Jill says as she watches the body being hauled away. "Okay, tell me the basic details."

Lindsay replies, "Ashley Bloom, age 24, threw a big birthday bash for her husband David Bloom, age 50 today. About 100 guests were here—I say 'about' because the Blooms are the-more-the-merrier type hosts. Guests are free to invite others to come along."

"So the hosts didn't know all of their guests?"

"Not even close. Moments before the fireworks began, the people out on the terrace thought they heard a gunshot, but some insisted it had to be a firecracker from down on the street."

Jill shakes her head. "Too far away to be that loud."

Lindsay nods her agreement. "Those that realized it was a shot began searching the apartment while most stayed on the terrace watching the fireworks. The searchers found this door locked, and no one would answer their frequent knocks and shouts for a response."

Jill asks, "Any other way in or out of here?"

"No. There is a sitting area, this huge bed chamber, as well as his and hers dressing rooms and bathrooms, but that door is the only exit."

Jill examines the door. "It was locked and no one inside responded. So how was this opened? It hasn't been forced."

Lindsay smiles. "A young guest borrowed a bobby pin and picked the lock."

Jill asks in disbelief, "That lock with just a bobby pin?"

"I know, I find it hard to believe too, but witnesses confirm it. You'll love this part. Our lockpicker is that same girl from the restaurant the other night."

"The one Cindy e-mailed us about? Joan…Girardi? By the way, Cindy made it through the police line again."

Lindsay sighs. "I'll have a talk with her."

"No big deal this time. All she is doing is flirting with that cute artist guy. So, what happened next?"

"A crowd of about 20 rush in, but they stop short when they see our grisly crime scene. They all immediately noticed four odd things. The first of course was the body of David Bloom with a bullet in his head."

Claire adds, "Single shot from a small caliber gun."

Lindsay holds up a small evidence bag. "Confirmed by one shell casing from a .25 caliber automatic. No fingerprints. Second odd thing, Ashley Bloom on the floor next to her husband seemingly waking up from having been knocked out."

Claire nods. "Someone punched her hard in the jaw. Mrs. Bloom lost a tooth and may have a hairline fracture. She's at the ER getting x-rayed."

"Under police guard." Lindsay adds.

Jill asks, "What was the third odd thing?"

"Even though the smell of gunsmoke still lingered in the air, there was no gun to be seen anywheres."

"It disappeared from a locked room?"

Lindsay shrugs. "The windows are sealed and we searched every inch of the bedroom suite."

"So what happened to the gun?"

(Claire and Lindsay share a glance and grin.)

Lindsay replies, "Fourth odd thing. Attached to each one of those dozens of presents on the bed WAS a helium filled balloon."

Automatically, Jill looks up. She sees a large, fully opened skylight 20 feet above her. "You've got to be kidding me. Why do we always get the weird ones?"

Claire replies, "I think it's kharma. In a past life we must have been bad, bad people."

The three women chuckle.

Jill asks, "What's the young wife's story?"

Lindsay shrugs. "The usual nonsense. She and old husband enter the bedroom to discuss a private matter. A big bad man is waiting and slams the door, locking it. He points a gun at the victim, young wife tries to grab it, but the gun goes off. Bad man then punches young wife, knocking her out."

"Description?"

"Tall, thin, dark hair, wearing black pants, white shirt and a red bandana as a mask."

"Any chance…?"

"We've questioned nearly all of the witnesses and their stories are consistent. No one else was in the room, no one came out, and the room was never left unguarded until the police arrived. Unless this mythical bad man could jump 20 feet straight up, young wife is lying."

"How many more witnesses are left to question?"

Lindsay replies, "Three or four. We've been lettting them go as soon as we have their statements. I'm saving the Girardi girl for last. I find her interesting, and I want to find out how she picked a high quality lock with just a bobby pin."

Jill asks, "So we're sure young wife is our killer?"

Claire replies, "She had gunpowder residue on her hand."

Lindsay adds, "And there's a reasonable motive. The victim's sister was here, and she was also the guy's lawyer. According to the sister, Katherine Bloom, she drew up an iron clad pre-nuptuial agreement that says a divorce for any reason leaves young wife with nothing."

"Sounds like young wife was highly motivated to keep old husband happy. Were they having problems?" Jill asks.

"According to the angry sister, young wife has been doing her best to persuade old husband to agree to have a baby. Trust me, young wife has what it takes to be persuasive."

"Did the victim agree?"

"Old husband was overheard by several people to say that he would give young wife his answer in here while the fireworks were distracting the guests. But, the sister/lawyer swears before the marriage, her brother was adamant about no kids."

Jill looks doubtful. "This doesn't seem to rise to the level of violence. What went wrong?"

Claire says, "The old husband reeked of champagne, but the young wife was stone cold sober."

Lindsay adds, "Guests confirm the couple were keeping their distance from each other. He drank heavily while she stuck with the non-alcohol stuff."

Claire says, "We also found an unopened home pregnancy test kit in young wife's medicine cabinet."

Jill responds, "So, young wife thought she might already be pregnant, but was too nervous to find out for sure. That's why she was making the big push to get old husband to agree on a baby."

Lindsay nods. "Our theory is, drunk old husband gives her an emphatic 'NO'. Young wife then blurts out she may be pregnant. He loses his temper and hits young wife for the first time ever. Young wife—shocked, in pain and pissed—grabs her gun and shoots old husband."

"But…why the stunt with the balloons?"

"Panic. People were pounding on the door, and young wife is holding the murder weapon in her hand. Desperate to get rid of it, she…improvises."

Claire adds, "The skylight operates by a control next to the bed."

Lindsay says, "A .25 automatic weighs only a little more than a pound. We figure it's floating around somewhere over the bay—assuming the fireworks didn't shoot it down."

Jill responds, "Okay, it looks like we have a case. If we can get the accused to co-operate, I'll ask for murder two with a recommendation for leniency. Probably 20 years. Out in 10 with good behavior."

Claire asks, "If she doesn't co-operate?"

"Then no leniency, and we will have to point out an additional motive. I assume young wife is in the will?"

Lindsay replies, "According to Katherine Bloom, the young wife gets half and the other half is split between the victim's two sisters, Katherine and Charlotte."

Claire asks, "Charlotte Bloom, that psychic who is always offering her services to the police?"

Lindsay nods. "The same. Fortunately, we've never been that desperate."

Claire says, "Well, if you will excuse me ladies, I have an autopsy to perform."

As Claire exits, Lindsay comments, "Time to get the Girardi girl in here so we can wrap this up."

X X X X X

"This is all my fault." Joan Girardi softly whispers to herself. Joan shivers slightly as the night air is turning brisk, and little black dresses were never made for warmth. She doesn't mind. The cold fits her mood. Joan tries not to let the guilt overwhelm her the way her libido has been doing this week. All she wanted was to have her first time with a guy she cared about, and Adam seemed to be her last chance this summer. But she was warned by her tutor that the ripples could be bad if she continued to indulge her amorous intentions at the price of her spiritual gifts. And he was right. David Bloom is dead, and it's her fault.

A giggle from the other side of the terrace draws Joan's attention. She glances that way and sees reporter Cindy Thomas flirting with Adam. Even at this distance Joan can read Cindy's fascination with Adam, as well as her carnal desires. Too bad Red, you're doing your cause no good. At this moment, Adam is in shock, but deep grief is begining to form. Apparently David Bloom was more than a friend and mentor to Adam. He was a type of father-figure (no offense to Carl Rove, but he and Adam have little in common). Adam is barely aware of Cindy's presence, but when he realizes Cindy is flirting with him at a time like this, he will be offended.

Yes, Joan's abilities are back, no longer blocked by a mountain sized amount of desire. That shrank away to a tiny molehill, and all it took was one gunshot. One man's life... Joan struggles to keep back her tears. This is her fault. Someone was in this apartment with enough hate and violence in his heart to be planning murder. For Joan to have missed this is the spiritual equivalent of a brass band going by unnoticed.

"Miss Girardi...?"

Joan looks up and recognizes the African American detective she spoke briefly to earlier - Inspector Jacobi.

"We're ready for you now."

Joan folllows Jacobi across the salon to the master bedroom. She notes that most of the guests are gone, having been allowed to leave after being questioned. Florene had earlier led a grieving Kate Bloom away from this scene of David's death. Joan managed to whisper that she would be with Adam tonight. There would be no 'benefits' between the two friends, but Joan wanted to be with Adam to offer whatever comfort she could.

Jacobi points to a chair, and Joan takes a seat. There is a small footstool and Joan props up her feet, feeling completely exhausted. Jacobi speaks into a handheld recorder...

"Interview - Joan Girardi, age 19 of Arcadia Maryland. Time 11:01 p. m., present Inspectors Jacobi and Boxer with Deputy D. A. Bernhardt."

Lindsay asks, "Miss Girardi, how did you manage to pick a high quality lock with only a bobby pin?"

"Pure luck. I'd seen stuff like that in the movies, and I thought I would give it a try. An older lady loaned me a bobby pin, and after goofing around with the lock for a few moments, it opened. No one was more surprised than me." Joan lies. In truth, she had one of her old lockpicks at the bottom of her purse, and having Adam block everyone's view of what she was doing, Joan easily opened the lock. The lockpick, wiped of fingerprints, was now over the edge of the roof.

Jacobi asks, "What happened next?"

"My friend Adam and I were shoved along with the crowd, and we ended up falling on the floor. Several people tripped over us and we were pinned there for a couple of minutes. If the grisly crime scene hadn't caused people to suddenly stop, we might have been trampled."

Jill asks, "Are you okay?"

Joan shrugs. "Just a couple of bruises."

Lindsay asks, "What did you first notice in the room?"

"Ashley Bloom waking up, holding her jaw and moaning in pain. She then saw her dead husband next to her and screamed in horror."

"Are you sure her reaction was real?"

"Absolutely." Joan replies. She was sure because she read Ashley's soul. Joan knows the young woman is innocent. Ashley loved her husband a little and his money a lot, but there was no violence in her. Now, how to convince Inspector Boxer of that?

Lindsay continues, "I only ask because all of the other witnesses thought Mrs. Bloom was 'hamming it up'. Acting."

"Their opinions might have been influenced by Kate Bloom repeatedly shouting: 'The little whore murdered my brother'!"

Lindsay and Jacobi exchange glances. No one has mentioned this before.

Jacobi asks, "Can you confirm there was no one else in the bedroom when you entered, and that no one left?"

"No."

"What do you mean, 'No'?"

"Just before the door opened, I heard someone moving about right next to the other side of the door."

Lindsay reacts, "No one else has mentioned that."

"No one else was as close to the door as me. After we rushed in, and we were startled by the scene before us, I definitely had a glimpse of someone, out of the corner of my eye, slipping out of the room. A man left here in the first few seconds of confusion. I'm certain of that."

Jill Berhardt sighs and whispers to Lindsay, "There's one in every crowd."

Jacobi tries again. "Miss Girardi, you can't possibly be 'certain' from a glimpse of motion out of the corner of your eye."

Lindsay adds, "And twenty witnesses contradict your statement. They all agree that they remained unmoving in the doorway area, blocking any exit. No one left - certainly no one from inside this room."

Joan smiles. "Really Inspector, does that sound like human nature to you? That 20 people stood like statues staring at the crime scene until the police arrived? True, several people did just that, but not all. Some immediately walked away unable to deal with the sight of murder. A couple even ran away, headed for the nearest bathroom to be sick. Some went out to the balcony to spread the news, and other came to get a glimpse of what was happening. Several people took out their cell phones, a few to call 9-1-1, but most were ghoulishly taking pictures. You can bet your crime scene is already all over the internet."

Lindsay pauses, thinking this sounded closer to the truth than what she has been hearing tonight. "Even so, somebody would have noticed a man dressed...uh..."

Joan smiles at Lindsay's hesitation. "I already have heard Mrs. Bloom's story directly from her. Once we were able to get up, Adam and I helped Ashley into a chair...actually, this chair. We called for help, and the Bloom's housekeeper, Mrs. Tolliver, came with a first aid kit and an ice bag for Ashley's jaw. It was while we were helping her that Ashley gave us her side of the story."

"Then you know how unlikely it is that young wife's...I mean, Mrs. Bloom's story is. When the fireworks began, and all of the guests were on the terrace, the catering staff took their break in the kitchen. I'm well aware that they were all dressed in black pants, white shirts, and with a red cravat at the throat. But, that proves Mrs. Bloom was lying. No one could have missed a man dressed in just shirt sleeves when all of the male guests were wearing suit jackets or tuxedoes."

"That's very true, which is why I asked Mrs. Tolliver to check Mr. Bloom's closet. He owns three tuxedo jackets. He was wearing one, one was still in the closet, and one was missing. The killer was one of the catering staff, and he slipped out of here looking like one of the guests."

Lindsay exchanges glances with Jacobi and Jill, doubt begining to appear on their faces. Lindsay blurts out, "Miss Girardi, we all know your reputation from your hometown, but this isn't Arcadia, and your daddy isn't police chief here. This is the big city where we do not tolerate interference in police matters. I'm warning you, any amateur detective efforts on your part will result in your arrest for obstruction of justice. Understand?"

Joan pauses a moment, trying not to let the 'daddy' remark upset her. "No, I guess I don't understand. For the record Inspector Boxer, Inspector Jacobi and Deputy D. A. Bernhardt, am I being intimidated into altering my testimony in order to more comfortably fit with your already formed conceptions of how this case should be settled?"

Jill holds up a warning hand and points at the recorder. "Remember, she's pre-law. No Miss Girardi, no one is trying to influence your statement, but you must understand that trained public officials become concerned when untrained, inexperienced amateurs try to impose themselves into an investigation. Certainly we want to hear all you have to say, but we have to take into account your own obvious bias in favor of our prime suspect."

Lindsay adds, "And for your information, we have already checked out the entire catering staff. There was the manager Mr. Harley of Oppulent Occasions and Parties, and his staff of 15. All were known to him, and he vouches for them. All 15 were in the kitchen when the murder occured."

"Well, I wasn't there, so I can't say differently. Although, I might speculate that those 15 might have made a few trips to the bathroom, or slipped out into the service corridor for a smoke, and since they were all young men and women, perhaps even to make out a bit. And I don't know how it is done in the 'big city' but in Arcadia, when a caterer needs extra hands for a big party, he posts a message at the local college for experienced help. Usually there is a flood of resumes, often exaggerated, and the caterer picks at random. If you question this Mr. Harley a little more intensely, you might find that in order to defend his firm's reputation, he has vouched for several people he only met today. Plus, since many of the staff didn't know each other, how hard would it have been for a 16th waiter to blend in with the O.O.P.'s crew?"

Jill and Lindsay shake their heads, seeing their case crumble before them.

Jacobi asks, "Even if your theory is correct, how did the killer get out of the apartment? Exiting out the front way was impossible because guests were watching that for the arrival of the police. The service exit was blocked by the catering staff. So how did he leave?"

"There's a third elevator."

Lindsay shakes her head. "No way."

"It's in the den. A small, private one that goes directly to the parking garage - one of the perks of renting the penthouse."

Jacobi says, "Impossible. The Unies searched everywheres."

"Your uniformed officers might have easily missed it. The door of the elevator matches the paneling in the den. It isn't invisible, but unless you know where to look, it's hard to spot. I got all of this from Mrs. Tolliver. Are you sure you questioned her?"

Jacobi sheepishly replies, "The housekeeper was is the kitchen having a snack and watching the fireworks from the window when the crime occured. She seemed so upset, we didn't press."

Joan adds, "She also let slip, while weeping on my shoulder, about Ashley's unopened pregnancy test kit. I guess that explains why Ashley was pushing hard on the baby idea."

Jill sharply says, "That's not for release."

"I'm not the one who is always hanging out with a reporter. By the way, what is she doing this side of the police line flirting with my...friend?" Joan asks while reminding herself she must stop referring to Adam as her 'boyfriend'.

Before anyone can respond, a uniformed officer knocks and enters... "Lt. Hogan has arrived."

"I'll go." Lindsay says.

Joan notes that the beautiful Inspector Boxer goes through an automatic ritual of straightening her clothes, fluffing her hair and checking her boobs to see if they look good. They do. After she exits, Joan realizes how exhausting it has become to constantly lie, as the information she has been giving was derived trhough her spiritual abilities.

"I'm really tired. Are we done for now?"

Jacobi looks to Jill and shrugs. "I suppose so, but keep yourself available for future questioning, Miss Girardi."

Joan nods and walks out into the main salon. She sees Lindsay meeting Tom Hogan at the center of the room, and can just make out her questioning... "You brought HEATHER to a crime scene?"

Tom Hogan takes Lindsay by the arm and draws her away to a more secluded corner of the room. Joan, seeing her distant relative Heather Donnelly, goes to join her. (As she does, Joan notices that Cindy Thomas has wisely stopped her flirtation and is now commiserating with Adam.)

"Hello Heather, what brings a nice school teacher like you to a crime scene like this?"

"Hello Joan. Tom and I were down at the waterfront watching the fireworks. When they were done, and we were headed back to his car, he got a call about an important murder on Nob Hill. Apparently the police chief has been receiving a lot of calls from prominent people, and she wanted a senior officer on the scene to make a report. Naturally, Tom coudln't just leave me out on the street alone, so I came along."

Joan nods and looks to where Lindsay and Tom are having a rather tense conversation. Joan asks, "What's up with those two?"

"You see it also?"

"That they have some sort of couple's vibe? Yeah, hard to miss."

"Lindsay is Tom's ex-wife. They use to work in different divisions, but when Tom was promoted, he became Lindsay's boss. Now, they see each other nearly every day..."

Joan senses Heather's concern. "Hey, they're divorced and Tom is marrying you."

"I know, and I try not to be jealous, but...she's just so beautiful."

There was no denying that. Joan wishes she could offer Heather some comforting words, but the two exes are like two halves of a broken whole. There are a lot of unresolved issues between them, and their potential relationship is as explosive as dynamite and a match. It wouldn't take much for some fireworks of their own to occur between Tom and Lindsay.

"Did they have any kids?" Joan asks.

"Not exactly. Lindsay had a late term miscarriage, and the doctors were unable to save their little girl. It led to the end of their marriage. Tom, normally a very strong man, needed his wife to help him through that difficult time, but Lindsay withdrew from him in order to concentrate on her work. I suppose she just couldn't deal with her loss. Lindsay became especially obsessed with a serial killer the press dubbed the 'Kiss-Me-Not-Killer', because he use to sew up his victim's mouths."

"Gross. I assume Lindsay never caught the serial killer?"

"How did you know?"

"She must have realized she needed to grieve, but that was too painful to face. So, she set before herself a 'noble quest' as an excuse as to why she couldn't take the time to deal with her loss. If Lindsay had caught this Kiss-Me-Not-Killer, then the quest would have been over and she would have had to give herself permission to properly mourn."

"And it might have saved their marriage. I never thought of that. Thank you Joan for the perspective."

Joan gives Heather a smile of encouragement. "Tom seems like a decent guy. When the two of you are married and expecting your first child, I'd bet he will be the most devoted husband ever."

Heather smiles, feeling a little better. Joan says her goodbyes, and collects Adam for the return trip to Berkeley. Joan can't help but feel a brief moment of gloat as she sees Cindy's face as she walks away with Adam.

X X X X X

Catching the last train of the night back to Berkeley, an exhausted Adam and Joan sit side-by-side resting their heads together. Entering the small apartment, they hold each other for a long while. Joan feels Adam's pain, and hopes he will open up so the healing process can begin, but she knows she must not press the matter. Adam begins making up the other futon...

"Adam, we're not going to sleep together?"

Adam sighs. "Jane..."

"I only meant, I thought you might want someone to be close to, to cuddle with as a type of comfort. I wasn't suggesting sex. I only want to help you through this, Adam."

Adam nods and briefly smiles. "Thank you, that is a tempting offer, but...so are you. We both know I have problems when it comes to temptation, and I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to resist...ya know."

Joan shrugs. "We agreed, friends forever and with benefits when desired. I know you just want to curl up and grieve, but you don't have to do it alone. If all you need is to be held, I'm here for you. If you want...the other, that's okay too."

"Thank you Jane, but I don't want to risk mixing up the memories of our first time with the horror of tonight. Another time, okay?"

"Absolutely. I'll take the other futon, but if you change your mind about the holding, the cuddling, I'm here for you. Oh, meanwhile, I just realized I didn't bring any night clothes. I originally thought...I wouldn't need them"

"Uh, my room mate Wil is a lot taller than me. One of his tee shirts should make you an adequate night gown."

Adam goes to a chest of drawers, and after a bit of rummaging around, comes up with a clean white shirt. Joan accepts the loan and quickly enters the small bathroom. After removing all of her clothes and rinsing out her underthings, she slips on the tee shirt. Wow, the room mate must really be tall. The shirt reaches all the way down to her knees. Joan returns to the main room, and Adam enters the bathroom carrying a set of pajamas. Joan sits on the second futon and carefully tugs down the 'hem'. As she waits for Adam, she again spots his sketch book on the coffee table. She knows she should resist the temptation, but Joan can't help speculating about Adam's two lovers, and if she can spot them amongst so many beautiful women.

Joan begins turning the pages, and quickly realizes there is only one sketch for each beauty. That is until she comes to the twenty-first one. There are five sketches of this woman, all in different poses, and with an undeniable greater attention to details, especially the more intimate ones. The young woman is petite and thin, but is very well muscled. She has small but perky breasts, and her poses are free and graceful as she exults in her nudity. Unquestionably she is a ballerina, and her beautiful face reminds Joan of an old time movie star when she was very young and at her prettiest...Audrey Hepburn. Yes, there was an undeniable resemblance, and Joan can see why Adam was enraptured by this beautiful free spirit. Joan tries hard to resist it, but a twinge of jealousy twists inside of her.

Joan starts turning the pages again, looking for the second of Adam's lovers. The women vary from their late teens up to their mid-30's, but all are lovely. Of course much of that has to do with the talent and personality of Adam Rove. Joan knows Adam has always had a problem in seeing the flaws of women, both in personality and in appearance. He automatically lessens all flaws until they nearly disappear from his sketches while enhancing any woman's best features. Even the most ordinary woman looks very attractive when drawn by Adam. Joan recently saw a semi-nude sketch Adam did of Grace when they were both 14, and Grace looked beautiful. (Even so, she has been hiding that sketch for years, and only recently shared it with Luke.) Joan keeps turning the pages, unable to find Adam's second lover, and begins to think that she might not be in here. Then, Joan come to the last one...

Again there are five sketches of this beauty in different poses. She is stunningly beautiful with long blonde hair, big blue eyes and a smile that invites friendship and sex as equals. She is an uncomplicated woman in her 20's who takes life for its' pleasures, and is happy to share the pleasure she can offer, which is considerable. No wonder Adam could not resist this second lover. Joan of course recognizes the blonde beauty. No one could forget the enormous breasts of...Ashley Bloom.

To Be Continued. Please review.


	6. Chapter 6

PART SIX

Joan stares at the sketches of the overly endowed Ashley Bloom until she hears Adam returning from the bathroom. Quickly, she turns the pages back to where the 'ballerina' is. Adam enters and goes to his futon, yawning from exhaustion. Joan knows he is very tired and that tiredness is beginning to cause the pain over David's loss to temporarily fade. Joan now realizes why she has been reading a low but constant level of guilt in Adam. She assumed it was the guilt all people feel when someone they care for dies. Those regrets that you can never settle—usually about telling that person how much they meant to you. But Joan now knows most of that guilt concerns how Adam feels about sleeping with David's wife.

"Why are you looking at that again?" Adam asks as he points at the sketch book.

"I know, I know—it's a little O. C. D., but I just had to see if I could pick out your 'two' from in here."

"A-And have you?" Adam nervously asks.

"I found your ballerina."

"Oh. Are you asking for details?" Adam responds with a hint of relief in his voice.

"Nothing intimate, but maybe just a thumbnail sketch?"

"Well, I won't tell you her name. 'Ballerina' will have to do. She came to me last fall for a sketch that was a little different than what the others wanted. Most of my clients were having boudoir portaits painted as gifts for their husbands or boyfriends, but…Ballerina wanted a more intense body study type work. She's a dance major, and realized that she was in the best shape she would ever be in during her life. She wanted to immortalize that moment so she could look back fondly on it in her older years."

"I suppose the situation was rather erotic, and she threw herself at you?"

Adam blushes but shakes his head 'no'. "That does happen sometimes, but she was quite open and free about nudity. The portrait sessions didn't seem to be much of a turn on for her, but…they were for me. I began flirting with her, and at first she was amused. After her portrait was done, I began to pursue her, and eventually she decided to reward my persistance. We began a no strings attached affair that lasted a couple of months. When things had run their course, we parted amicably."

Joan nods. "It sounds like a good experience, and certainly she is a beautiful woman. When was this relationship?"

"Back in the middle of winter. Are you jealous, Jane?"

"A little. Knowing you were with two other women sounded acceptable in my head, but actually seeing one of them…well, that's a little harder to deal with. But I'm okay with this Adam. We agreed to date others, and of course we have now moved on to a friend relationship that will someday include 'benefits'. But what I find hard to understand is what I found at the back of this collection of beautiful women…Ashley Bloom! Adam, how could you sleep with her?"

Adam sighs heavily and stares at the floor. "I should have guessed you would figure this out. You always seem able to ferret out any secret. What do you want me to say, Jane? That I'm sorry? That I should feel lower than dirt for sleeping with a married woman—especially the wife of a man I considered a friend? That I should be ashamed of myself? Well, I am. I hate myself for being so weak. I hate that I could even consider such an act, let along go through with it. Trust me, I've been beating myself up over this for weeks."

"How did this happen?"

Adam does not make eye contact, but he answers. "About a month ago Ashley called me to set up an appointment to start a portrait. David's birthday was coming up, and she had heard him brag about the work I did with boudoir pictures. It never occurred to me that anything could happen between us. I went to her apartment and did a few preliminary sketches with her wearing a leotard. Ashley paid me in advance by check since she knew like all students, I was always short on cash. I gave her a couple of days to pick out which pose she wanted to go with, and we moved on to the final sketch—this time in the nude. I've drawn a lot of beautiful women, but Ashley…"

"Yeah, I noticed her major 'assets'. I even get how something like this might happen. I know back in high school when you use to sketch me, I always found it a turn on. I can just imagine how erotic the experience must have been with her in the nude. Did she come on to you?"

"Yeah, but I responded quickly. Normally when this happens, I can resist—but not this time. Maybe because it was such a long time since I was with another woman, maybe it was because her 'assets' were so irresistable, but whatever the reason, I stopped thinking and I let temptation get the better of me. We had sex right there in her bedroom…the same room where David was killed."

"So this has been going on for a month?"

"What? Oh, God no. We both realized what a horrible mistake we had made, and we hated ourselves for being so weak. Ashley swore she had never done anything like that before, and I believed her. We made a pact to keep this secret forever, and to avoid seeing each other ever again. I left that day saying I would send the portrait by delivery, and that I would not be back."

"But you accepted the invitation to David Bloom's party."

"Yeah, I didn't know how to get out of that without raising suspicion, but I never intended to go. I was planning on spending the entire day and night…with you. But then, Ashley called."

"She was the one who got you to rush me out of here this afternoon? Why?"

"About a week ago, Ashley called and said she had changed her mind about the portrait. It was almost done, but she said she didn't want it any more. She was afraid she wouldn't be able to hide her guilt if David saw that painting. But today she called and told me David was reviewing their joint account on line, and he saw the check I had cashed for the portrait. He told her he was looking forward to seeing it. Ashley panicked. How could she explain she had changed her mind? So she called me and begged me to bring it to the party."

"And that's why you rushed me out of here. You had to do the finishing touches to the portrait right away in order to get it to the party on time. Yeah, I can see why you couldn't explain that to me."

"You don't sound very mad, Jane."

Joan shrugs. "At least this is more soothing to the old ego than what I was originally thinking—that you were pushing me out of your bed to hook up with someone else. I guess I understand, even though I have to say I'm really disappointed in you, Adam. Even considering your past history, this is pretty low."

Adam nods. "I agree. I can be…weak. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to apologize to me, and it's too late to make ammends to David. But Adam, you may have another problem. Ashley thinks she may be pregnant."

Adam's face turns pale. "Oh God. We…we didn't use protection. It was such a moment of uncontrolled passion… Oh God, what if it's my kid?"

"Easy there, Ashley only thinks this. She hasn't even taken the test to find out if it's true. And even if Ashley is pregnant, there's no guarantee the baby would be yours."

"But if it is…? Ashley may end up in jail for David's murder. I'm sure she couldn't have done it, but if she goes to prison anway, what would happen to our baby? Will they give it to me to raise? How can I support a kid?"

"Adam, chill. I'm sorry I mentioned this. Look, we're tired and really rattled by what has happened. Try to get some sleep, and don't make an issue of something that probably isn't even true. Okay? Please try to get some sleep. You look like you can really use it."

Adam nods and rests his head on his pillow. Joan does the same.

Joan adds, "And if you need help relaxing, my offer still stands. We can hold each other, cuddle for comfort if you need it."

"Thank you Jane. You really are the best of friends."

Adam claps his hands, and the lights go out…

X X X X X

7-05-07/Thursday morning.

Joan becomes aware of daylight even before she opens her eyes. Good, her tutor has followed her request and didn't do his tap-tap-tap routine before dawn. As Joan eases from sleep to wakefulness, she becomes aware that someone is spooning her. Through the thin cotton tee shirt she wears, Joan can feel the contours of someone very male and naked. One of his arms is draped over her breasts, and she can feel his warm breath on the back of her neck. Joan smiles and opens her eyes. Yes, on the other side of the room, Adam's futon is empty. Well, he changed his mind, and didn't even awaken her when he got under the sheet with her. Joan is glad Adam changed his mind about cuddling, and considering he is naked, perhaps he has changed his mind about…the other. Does he want to make love? Is she okay with that? Yes, she is.

Joan looks back over her shoulder with a 'Good morning' forming on her lips when she sees who is in bed with her…a naked stranger. He is a tall, dark haired man around twenty and he holds on to her tightly. Joan quickly considers what blow she can deliver to save herself. Her many training sessions on fighting techniques never included this position. Joan raises her arm, hoping she can smash her elbow back toward his jaw when the stranger snorts once and begins to snore. Joan pauses. If this is a sexual assault, it is the laziest one on record. And his breath! The guy reeks of stale beer and (sniff) barbeque…? This reminds Joan that Adam's room mate, Will somebody, was suppose to at a family barbeque and was to stay away for the rest of the week. Apparently he is back very early.

Gently, Joan lifts the guys arm off of her breasts and starts to slip out of bed, but the guy begins to stir. Joan quickly slips her pillow under the arm and he settles back down. It seems anything soft will do. Probably slept with a teddy bear when he was a kid. Joan is up now, and about to lower the sheet back into position when curiosity gets the better of her. One quick peek… Well, hello Mr. Happy, glad to see you're not yet 'up' this morning. Joan completes covering the guy with the sheet, and as she does so, it occurs to her that for a girl who is still technically a virgin, she has seen way too many penises.

Now free of her spooner, Joan looks around and wonders where Adam is? Why would he leave her in bed with a naked guy, even if he is Adam's room mate. Joan goes into the bathroom, locks the door and slips out of the borrowed tee shirt. Her things are dry and she quickly gets dressed…once more back into the little black dress. She is really getting tired of this garment. Joan returns to the main room and sees her recent bed companion is still snoring, and Joan realizes he is sorta half asleep and sorta half passed out. Ah, the joys of college life. Joan looks around for a note from Adam, but finds none…

"Who are you?"

Joan barely hears the question as the guy's voice is weak and raspy. She turns and sees 'Will' with one eye open and trying to get some saliva going in his mouth to relieve the dryness. Without answering, Joan goes to the kitchenette, gets a bottled water from a cabinet (cold would be a mistake) and locates a bucket from under the sink. She returns to the main room, hands him the water and places the bucket close to him.

"Thanks." he whispers as he drinks about half the water and is immediately sick. Joan carries the bucket to the bathroom, pours the contents down the toilet, checks for and finds some pink stomach medicine and returns with the now empty bucket. You learn a lot of odd skills in college. The guy accepts the pink stuff and drinks down about a fourth of the bottle.

"Thanks again. Can you bring me the green cylinder under the bathroom sink?"

Joan makes a quick trip back to the bathroom and returns with a small metal cylinder painted green.

"Is this oxygen?" Joan asks.

The guy starts to nod but realizes that is a mistake. "Yeah, twenty minutes of oh-two is a guaranteed cure for any hangover. At least the headache part."

As he puts on the oxygen mask and begins to breathe deeply, Joan asks, "And this happens often enough you keep oxygen cylinders on hand?"

He shrugs. "If you don't indulge during your college years, when will you?"

Joan recalls several fellow students at Arcadia College who have indulged themselves to the point of failing grades, damaged health and near death. "My name is Joan Girardi. I'm Adam's friend."

"Wil Speake."

"Uh, you'll speak about what?"

"My name is Wil, short for Wilbur, Speake - with an 'E' on the end. Weird name, huh?"

"I'll say. Who names a kid 'Wilbur' these days?"

Wil starts to chuckle but then groans in discomfort. "Please...don't make me laugh. Did you say your name is Joan? I thought for sure Adam said 'Jane'."

Joan sighs. "Nickname. Moving on, do you know where Adam is?"

"Don't you? You're the one sleeping with him."

"Actually, we slept on separate futons last night."

"Then...that wasn't a dream? I dreamt I was with my girlfriend last night."

"Uh, no. That was me."

"Oh. Did we...?"

"Oh God no."

"You don't have to be insulting about it. I'm not that bad. Why weren't you sleeping with Adam? The whole idea for me going away was so the two of you could hump your brains out."

"Adam was too upset. A friend of his died yesterday."

"Oh, sorry to hear that. Is he okay?"

"Not sure. He was upset last night, and this morning he's gone, but where?"

"There's a bakery nearby where we sometimes get pastries. Maybe he went to pick up breakfast...ooh, but none for me. I feel awful."

"That comes with the binge drinking, and why are you back so soon? I thought you weren't returning until Monday?"

"Our family barbeque is also a bit of a family reunion. All the uncles, aunts and cousins get together to hash out arguments and hurt feelings from stuff that happened years ago. Add generous amounts of booze and the scene quickly becomes something I can't stand. I had to get out of there, so I drove back to Berkeley."

"Drunk?" Joan accuses.

"No, never. But I did bring a cooler full of beer and a couple of slabs of ribs back with me. I didn't mean to come back to the apartment. I was going to find a friend to crash with, but I forgot most of them were off with relatives too. So, I settled in the back seat of my car, ate my ribs, drank my beer and passed out."

"What a 'fun' way to celebrate our independence. The founding fathers would be so proud. So how did you end up in bed with me?"

"I don't remember. I guess I must have wandered up here at some point, but it's all a blank. I don't remember if Adam was here, or where my clothes are, and I certainly don't remember getting under the sheets with you. Sorry about that. I, uh, didn't get 'touchy' did I?"

"Not...overly so. As for your clothes, they're in a pile on the bathroom floor. I don't understand why Adam would leave me in bed with a naked guy I don't know."

"Maybe he didn't see me? You were between me and him, blocking his view, and if he was quietly sneaking out to avoid wakening you, he could have easily missed me. If he went for those pastries, he shouldn't be gone too long. I hope he brings coffee."

"Don't you have any here?"

"Yeah, but I'm not up to brewing any, plus...there's the whole naked thing to consider."

"Right...that. Where are some clothes for you?"

"Top drawer over there."

Joan goes to the dresser and finds a tumbled assortment of clothing. She spots a speedo swimsuit and playfully considers tossing Wil that, but instead grabs a pair of jogging shorts and a tee shirt with an 'Oakland A's' logo. After tossing him the clothes, Joan quickly goes into the kitchenette and starts a pot of coffee. She waits until she can pour two cups before risking venturing back into the main room. By then, Wil is dressed, turning off the oxygen and sitting on the side of the futon.

"Feeling better?"

"At least the headache is gone." Wil says as he accepts the coffee cup. "Bless you, my child."

Joan sits on the opposite futon, wondering how long she will have to make small talk with this guy before Adam returns.

Wil continues, "Starting to feel human again, but my guts will be iffy for awhile yet. So you're Jane, I mean, Joan. No wonder Adam was so anxious to see you again. Dang, you're a pretty one."

"Thanks. So, you and Adam have been room mates for almost a year now. How are you getting along?"

"Not bad. We respect each other's privacy, at least as much as you can in a place this small. And we get along okay. Occasionally Adam and I will hang out in a local pub, even though that's not usually his scene. And we've been to a couple of A's games together. And Adam is always cool about when I need privacy for when my girlfriend visits, and I do the same for...uh..."

Joan smiles. "Relax, I know Adam has been with others, and I'm okay with it."

"That's a relief. Thought I spilled the beans there for a moment. Wouldn't want to get Adam mad and have him switch roomies for the next semester. It's tough finding a good one. When I think of that nightmare case I almost got stuck with..."

"That would be the guy Adam replaced when he lost his scholarship to go into rehab?"

"Yeah, Freddy Krueger in the flesh."

"Long fingernails or the nightmare part?"

"Nightmare, but I do remember his fingernails being kind of long and dirty. I only met the guy once, but that was enough. You could tell he was using, and worse, he was one of those paranoid type druggies who kept muttering to himself. Something about how the world will one day worship at his feet when they realize what a great artist he is. Freak show. When I heard I was getting another artist as a roomie, I was worried until I met Adam. What a relief."

"I can imagine. If it weren't for the 'freak show's' problems, Adam never would have made it to Berkeley. It's a good thing Dean David Bloom took such a personal interest in Adam, and recommended him to take 'Freddy's' place. By the way, David Bloom is the friend that died yesterday."

"Oh crud, that must have hit Adam hard. Poor guy. He was always going on about how great the Dean was to him, and how he was so helpful even when it caused him problems."

"Meaning?"

"Oh, Adam told me that after the druggie got his 28 days of rehab, he came back to school expecting to reclaim his scholarship. Gives you an idea of how connected to reality the guy was. It seems the now dried out druggie made a huge scene in the Dean's office, ranting, cussing and making threats. Dean Bloom got so mad, he swore he'd never let that weirdo back into Berkeley."

"Really? I wish I had known that earlier... Say, how long does it take to get pastries from that bakery?"

"Usually not this long. Have you checked your messages?"

Joan does a playful slap of her forehead as a 'duh' gesture. "Checking... One voice mail... Adam says he had to run an errand, sorry he had to leave so quickly and he will call me later. Okay then, I guess I might as well head back to the city."

"I'll let Adam know when you left in case he calls. Bye Joan, nice to have met you. By the way, the little black dress in the morning practically screams to the world: 'I spent the night with my boyfriend'."

Joan blushes, gives a ta-ta gesture and exits...

X X X X X

Cindy Thomas holds a drink carrier filled with coffee cups as she approaches Lindsay's desk. Cindy sighs as she notices Lindsay is still wearing the same clothes from yesterday. Inspector Boxer has worked through the night, again. Cindy removes one of the coffee cups and hands it to her friend and mentor...

"With extra caramel, just as you like it."

"Thanks." Lindsay says as she looks through a report and distractedly takes a sip. She pauses and takes a second drink. "Ahh, that hits the spot."

"Another all nighter?"

Lindsay looks down at her clothes and nods. "Can everyone tell?"

Cindy holds up her thumb and finger just half an inch apart. "Little bit."

"I've extra clothes here. I'll shower and change in a few minutes."

"What are all of these reports?" Cindy asks as she glances at the many documents piled on Lindsay's desk.

"All from the Bloom case. Witness statements, preliminary forensic evidence, this thick one is a list of all of the registered .25 caliber automatics in the city."

Cindy picks that up and flips through the pages. "Wow, there must be thousands."

"Around seven thousand, and that's just the registered ones. Unregistered is probably five times that or more. The Blooms didn't have a registered one."

"Why are there so many? I thought the nine millimeter was the popular gun of choice these days."

"It is for cops and gang bangers, but the old .25 still has a lot of appeal. It's small, light weight, easily fits into a pocket or purse and most of all, it has low power."

"Wouldn't you want just the opposite with a gun?"

"I would, but your average honest citizen who only wants to protect his home, business or self isn't looking for a hand cannon to blow people away with. Pulling the trigger on someone is one of the hardest things for a person to do. I know of cases where John Q. Public had a big gun in hand, and just couldn't bring himself to shoot. Sometimes the bad guy shoots first, and sometimes he just grabs the gun away from the civilian. With the .25, the chances of killing someone with a single shot are fairly low as long as you don't hit the head or the heart. That makes it easier to shoot a bad guy if you absolutely have to."

At that moment Jill and Claire walk up to them and join in. Cindy hands each of them a cup of coffee.

"Bless you my child." Claire says as she takes a deep sip.

Cindy comments, "You both look like you've had rough nights."

Jill responds, "And rough mornings. My supervisor has filed murder charges against Ashley Bloom even though I recommended we hold off. Of course if this blows up in our faces, Denise will blame me anyway."

Claire asks, "Why does your boss dislike you so much?"

Jill shrugs. "Beats me. Up until a year ago we weren't friends, but we got along okay. Then her attitude shifted and she's been on my back ever since."

Lindsay gulps her coffee, not wanting to reveal several secrets she knows. That Jill and a public defender named Hanson North had a passionate affair that they had to keep secret for obvious conflict of interest reasons. Hanson made the mistake of trying to make the relationship more than about 'your place or mine' and Jill followed her usual pattern of dumping any guy who tried to get too close. Denise Kwan, who had been sniffing around Hanson for a long time, became his rebound relationship - also very hush hush, but Lindsay accidentily found out. When Jill began missing her daily dose of Hanson, she gave him the nod to return and he dumped Denise with lots of apologies. One more time Hanson made the same mistake of wanting to take the Jill/Hanson relationship to the next level and once more, bye-bye Hanson. Lindsay has kept mum about this because Jill knows she doesn't like Hanson, and is worried that any interference on her part might harm their friendship. Eventually Denise will cool off and ease up on Jill. At least the odious Hanson North is out of Jill's life.

Lindsay says, "Okay, let's review and see if there is any way to salvage a case against Ashley Bloom. Cindy, I assume since you spent all of last night flirting with that cute artist, you have nothing to chip in?"

"Just that Adam, the 'cute artist', was really hurting over the death of his mentor, David Bloom. When I realized that, I backed off with the flirting. Adam confirms what a lot of people had to say about the Blooms. Despite the age difference and the recent dispute over having a kid, the couple seemed very happy in their marriage. Adam even painted a boudoir type portrait of Ashley for her birthday present to her husband. I noticed it listed amongst the list of presents you have on your desk."

Lindsay frowns as she recalls Cindy's eidectic memory. Even a glance at any list and the young reporter had it memorized. Lindsay digs out a photo of the painting to show the group... 'Wow!' is the general reaction.

Claire comments, "You know, our anniversary isn't that far off. If I dropped a quick ten pounds, maybe I could get this Adam guy to paint something like that for me. I'm sure Ed would love it."

Jill adds, "And Luke's birthday is coming up. I know he would love to see me painted like this."

Cindy reacts, "Hey - hey, forget it. I don't want my friends posing nude for a potential boyfriend."

Lindsay asks, "Boyfriend? I thought he was hooked up with the Girardi girl?"

"That...seems like a failing relationship to me. Not that I'm trying to break them up, but if Adam happens to find himself free to look around, I'm leaving a trail of bread crumbs leading to me."

The other women chuckle at Cindy's obvious eagerness for the 'cute artist'.

Jill says, "Okay, down to business. I questioned Ashley Bloom, and she sticks to her story of the masked man. Also, while she was at the hospital, she finally took that pregnancy test. Negative. She missed her period, but it was a false alarm. Of course that doesn't change how things could have played out last night."

Claire says, "I have bad news for any case against Ashley. The pattern of gunpowder residue on her hand isn't fully consistent with someone shooting a gun."

Jill asks, "Meaning in court...?"

"I wouldn't be able to swear Ashley shot the gun. It's possible, but it is also possible she got the residue when a gun went off as her hand was reaching for it, just like she claimed. Also, the angle of the bullet is wrong. Ashley is five foot six and David was six foot even. Whoever shot David had to be tall, around six three or better."

Cindy says, "Maybe she stood on something? There was a footstool in the bedroom."

Lindsay asks, "When were you in the bedroom?"

"I had to snap a few pictures. Hey, don't give me that look. We all have bosses that expect results. So, what about the footstool idea?"

Jill smiles. "Yeah, I can see me trying to sell that to a jury. Ashley, in a murderous rage, pulls a footstool over to her husband, stands on it and fires a gun while he just stands there watching?"

Cindy blushes, and Lindsay quickly adds, "Besides, the Girardi girl was right about the third elevator and the missing tuxedo jacket. The small private car doesn't have a security camera of its' own, but we have security coverage from the parking garage that shows a tall man running from that elevator out into the street with a tuxedo jacket pulled up over his head. The timing fits for someone fleeing the scene of the crime. It looks like Ashley is off the hook."

Jill says, "So we're back to square one, and Denise is going to chew my ass, even if it was her mistake to file charges."

Cindy says, "Maybe not. What if the tall guy was in on it with Ashley? After all, this is a hundred million dollar estate. She might have hired the guy to do the killing and something went wrong. Maybe she backed out at the last moment? Maybe the shooting was suppose to be covered by the sound of the fireworks and it happened too soon? Maybe the guy was her boyfriend. A woman like Ashley could get any guy to do something dumb."

Claire says, "That's a lot of 'maybes'."

Jill remarks, "But not bad as possibilities. After all, how did the killer know about the third elevator? And how did he manage to do so much in the short time it took the witnesses to get in that room? Maybe Ashley helped, and the sock on the jaw was a way to make Ashley look innocent? She had motive. If she thought the baby was her boyfriend's, and until just now she didn't know she wasn't pregnant, then she faced a bleak future with a divorce and no child support for a kid that wasn't David's."

Lindsay says, "Whoa. Reel it in on the speculation. A hired killer or a boyfriend? Sure, that's easy to accept, but we need to find some proof. Remember proof? All we know now is that a tall man no one can name is probably the one that pulled the trigger. We will have to dig deep into David and Ashley's lives. Find out if they had any enemies, carefully check their finances, and yes, look into the possibilitity that young and chesty Ashley might have had a guy on the side."

At that moment, Lindsay's partner approaches with a document in his hand.

"We've got a call, Lindsay." Jacobi says.

"Can't another team respond? We're just getting started on the Bloom case."

"I know, but this is a quickie. The Unies already have the killer in custody, and only need a detective to sign off on the arrest. If you want, I can handle it alone. From the preliminary report, I should be back in less than an hour."

Lindsay fidgets at this suggestion. Even though Jacobi taught her the ropes in the detective business, she never likes to have him go out on his own. At his age, and with his experience, he should have gotten the promotion that Tom snagged.

"Just what are the details of this 'quickie'?"

"Uniformed officers responded to a report of a gunshot at a restaurant... Hey, this is a coincidence. It's that same one you recently recommended to me: Otto's Tyrolean Cafe. Anyway, the Unies entered and found a guy still holding a .25 automatic and standing over the dead body of the owner, a Mister..."

"Otto Schneider. Was it a robbery?"

Jacobi adjusts his reading glasses and looks further into the report. "Uh, not exactly. The murder suspect is some college student who was known to be having a dispute with the owner over an unpaid debt..."

Cindy has a cold feeling in her soul. She also remembers from the list of registered .25's, the name Otto Schneider. Quickly she asks, "What is this college guy's name?"

Jacobi frowns. He's not sure he likes the addition of this young reporter to Lindsay's circle of friends...

"The name is Adam Rove."

To Be Continued. Please review.


	7. Chapter 7

PART SEVEN

After a quick trip by BART back to San Francisco, Joan exits the station and heads for a bus stop. She sees a familiar figure waiting there for her…Old Lady God.

"Good morning Joan, dressed a little fancy for Thursday morning aren't you?"

"Like you don't know why I'm still wearing my little black dress. I'm…I'm really sorry about David Bloom."

"As am I. Basically a good man, he should have had another thirty years ahead of him."

"It's my fault he's dead."

"Really Joan, are you confessing to his murder?"

"No, but if I hadn't been so distracted by…ya know."

"Lust?"

"Yeah, that. Then I would have spotted the killer right off and stopped him."

"That is one potential scenario, but last night could have played out in many ways. The situation was highly in flux, and your involvement might not have prevented that murder."

"But I didn't get the chance to try because all I could think about was sex…plus my anger over Adam tossing me out of his apartment to be with another woman, or so I thought. If I had been alert, on my game, David Bloom wouldn't be dead. It's my fault."

Old Lady God sighs. "Joan, reel in the ego. I may have given you a few spiritual gifts, but omnisience and omnipotence weren't among them. You are not responsible for the ills of the world, nor do I expect you to go about saving every person in need. No human can, and to try to do so, to take on that burden, will crush your soul. Joan, try to remember, you're on vacation. The one you begged for, and the one you needed. I'd like you to give a little more effort to relaxation and rest."

"You call this a vacation? So far, I've been miserable. I would have been better off staying in Arcadia running assignments for you. First there was that horrible mess in Los Angeles, with the devil gloating because he has found a weak link in my protection that he can exploit… Wait, this situation isn't about that, is it?"

"No. All that is happening here was in motion before you arrived in San Francisco. What happened last night, and other matters associated with that event, are the ripples of people's choices. The reaping of the words and deeds they have sewn. Your vacation, and your quest to lose your virginity, are unconnected to those events—unless you choose to involve yourself in them."

"So…I shouldn't feel guilty? About my 'quest'?"

"Well, you know you have free will to make your life choices, good or bad."

Joan chuckles. "Here we go. I suspected it all along. You've been pulling the strings behind the scenes to keep me a virgin. Look, if you want me to stay in my current state, why not just say so? I'll take some kind of chastitiy oath and get on with my life of being a lonely old maid."

Old Lady God frowns. "Joan, that is offensive. Why are you doubting me? Why after all of this time do you still not get it when I say, 'free will'?"

Joan blushes and looks at the ground. "Sorry. But, what was that remark about good and bad choices? Even if the choice is mine, are you saying you don't want me to have sex? Is that why it hasn't worked out with Dylan or Adam?"

"Joan, you know my guidelines. You know I only want what is best for those I love. Would a quick affair with Dylan or Adam fall within those guidelines?"

Joan sighs. "Your guideline involves romantic love, and a committed relationship so that we don't end up hurting others or ourselves. Dylan wanted marriage, but I had too many doubts for that. If I had slept with him he would have believed it was leading to us getting married. If I had then walked away…it would have broken his heart. I couldn't do that to him."

"I am glad you realized that, Joan. I would have been very displeased if you had hurt Dylan that way."

"But Adam and I are different. We realize our time for a romantic relationship has passed, but we still love each other, we cherish our friendship and, we are really hot for each other… Sorry."

"No need to apologize, Joan. At the age the two of you are at, hormones are intense. That's worked into the system I designed to keep the species going. But I also gave you minds, and a sense of right and wrong so you could make choices higher than those of animals in heat."

"So that's a recommendation against Adam and me, even though it is our free will?"

"Joan, one day you will look back on this part of your life and be amused by how much pressure you have put on yourself over such a simple, natural matter. If you sleep with Adam, you will have a temporary physical pleasure, and your sense of having fallen behind your contemporaries will be eased, but that will not erase the ripples you will cause."

"Which are?"

Old Lady God smiles. "Not for you to know, but if you think about it, I'm sure you can think of a few scenarios where this might not work out as well as you hope."

Joan pauses as some of those thoughts go through her head. Bad sex? What did she really know of Adam as a lover? Pregnancy? Birth control isn't 100%. Emotional conflict? What if after they become physical, she or Adam wants much more than their agreed friends-with-benefits? You could go crazy trying to guess all the things that could go wrong, but still…

"I'll have to think about this some more, what with it being my free will choice."

"Always a good idea Joan, especially when you are sewing a seed that you do not recognize. Who knows what you might reap. For instance, you are about to receive a call from Adam that will involve some reaping of his own…"

At that moment, Joan's cell phone rings. Old Lady God gets on the bus that has just arrived, giving her usual backhand wave…

"Hey Adam. What…? Arrested? Okay, I'll be right there. Ask for a public defender and say nothing! I'm on my way."

X X X X X

Unable to stand the little black dress another moment, Joan takes the bus to Alamo Square and rushes into Florene's house and then up to the guest room. After a shower and quick change, Joan hurries back downstairs and finds Florene waiting for her...

"Good morning Joan, I thought I heard a whirlwind rushing through the house."

"Sorry, but I'm in a huge rush. How's Kate doing?"

"She's going back and forth between depression and trying to keep busy. Any funeral arrangements will be on hold until David's body is released, and Kate has been trying to block Ashley from using any of David's money, to keep her from hiring a lawyer. No luck with that. I know Kate is furious with Ashley, and I ought to be backing her up, but I just find it hard to believe that young woman could have done something so violent."

"I agree, and when I left David's apartment last night, the police were starting to have a few doubts of their own."

"Really? The vibe I had was that they were sure it was open and shut against Ashley."

Joan briefly wonders about that. Florene is an intuitive person, and that vibe might be very real. No matter how professional they may try to be, the cops would have quickly and firmly decided Ashley was guilty. How much could that subconsciously affect a witness' statement?

Florene continues, "We did finally manage to reach Charlotte and give her the tragic news. The poor thing, she was so happy about finding her missing runaway until we told her about David. Charlotte is waiting for the teenage girl's parents to show up before she heads back to town. So much tragedy... I'm sorry for how this has intruded on your reunion with Adam."

"Thank you, but I'm afraid the bad news keeps on coming. Adam has been arrested for murder."

"Oh God, it can't be true. Not that nice young man..."

"It's not true. I don't have the details yet, but I'm going down to the police station to see how I can help."

"I wish there was something I could do. Normally I'd ask Kate to help, but under the circumstances..."

"I understand, and don't worry. Adam will have a public defender, and I intend to give that lawyer all possible help."

Joan exits the house, and as she rushes toward the bus stop, she spots her tutor standing in the park, staring down at her with a self-satisfied smirk. She flips him the bird.

X X X X X

Hanson North, respected public defender, wipes sweat from his brow and tries to clear his head. What was wrong with him? When this pretty young girl asked to have a moment alone to talk about her accused boyfriend, he never expected...this. Hanson gulps nervously as he experiences a curious madonna/whore thing. On one hand he feels an overwhelming urge to protect this lovely young woman, to serve her in any way she desires, but on the other hand, he can't get these wildly erotic images out of his mind. The slightest nod from her and he would be pulling down those tight jeans and... Hanson again shakes his head, trying to keep his thoughts clear.

"Miss Girardi, what you're asking is impossible. There's no way to include you as a part of the defense. You're not a lawyer. You're not even a law student who might be given permission to observe as an intern."

Joan forces a smile as as she feels her stomach turn at what she is doing to this man. This is not the first time she has used the ability of sexual charisma to sway someone in a time of crisis, but each time the experience gets worse for her. She can fully feel Mr. North's passion, confusion and self-loathing for being so turned on by a girl half his age. Worse, he has a genuine interest in someone, and now he is doubting himself about that too. No wonder she is the only instrument of God to ever resort to this now despised ability, but Joan has learned some hard lessons about the end justifying the means. She knows that it is usually wrong, but what can she do? Adam needs her, and she has already been warned by the police about not interferring in their cases.

"Mr. North, as Adam's defense attorney, you have the right to hire any consultant you might need for your case. Such a consultant enjoys full lawyer/client priviledge, and has as much access to evidence as you see fit."

Hanson nods, trying not to stare at Joan's breasts, but failing miserably. "Y-Yes, but such consultants are usually specialized experts. What subject are you an expert in, Miss Girardi?"

"Adam Rove."

Again Hanson nods, knowing he should ignore such a ridiculous request, but for this enchanting young woman...anything. "I can draw up a contract..."

"No need. A verbal agreement will do since we are pressed for time. Give me a dollar."

Hanson reaches into his pocket, automatically obeying. He hands Joan a dollar and she hands him back a sheet of paper.

"What's this?" he asks.

"A receipt that says I have received full payment in my capacity as your new expert consultant."

"You knew in advance that I'd agree to this?"

"I had a hunch. Shall we join the others?"

Hanson follows Joan out of one of the small interview rooms and goes with her to the one next door. Joan allows Hanson to enter first. Hanson sees his client, Adam Rove handcuffed to a table. On the other side are Inspector Lindsay Boxer and his former girlfriend, Deputy D. A. Jill Bernhardt. This morning Hanson would have given anything to be reunited with Jill, even though he knows she is now in a relationship with some ER doctor. Now, with Joan on his mind, he wonders why he has ever been interested in any other woman.

"It's about time, Hanson. We do have other things on our schedule besides waiting for..." Lindsay pauses as she sees Joan following Hanson into the interview room. "Miss Girardi! What are you doing here? Did I not make myself clear that you were not to interfere in police matters?"

Hanson quickly intervenes. "Inspector, I have hired Joan Girardi in the capacity of an expert consultant. She will be assisting me in every aspect of Mr. Rove's defense, including this interview."

Adam and Joan share a brief hug, and she reads what she already knew in her heart. Adam is innocent. Joan takes a seat between Adam and Hanson and smiles at the annoyed detective.

Lindsay asks, "Jill, is this legal? Can he do this?"

Jill Bernhardt glares at her former lover feeling a curious mix of anger and jealousy. Normally when they were in a room Hanson couldn't take his eyes off of her, but now he is staring at Joan's boobs like they were as big as Ashley Bloom's. What is wrong with him? What's so special about her? Is it because she's younger? Hey, I'm still under thirty, and you're twice her age...

"Jill?" Lindsay prompts again, taking note of her friend's obvious jealousy and Hanson's revolting obsession with a teenage girl. She has never liked the man, but this...?

Jill swallows hard and replies, "Mr. North is correct. Technically he can hire experts to help his case, he can give them full access to all that we have, and he can obviously make a fool of himself!"

"Jill!" Lindsay warns as she points at the microphone that is recording the interview.

Jill takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself. Remember, you have Luke now. He's a doctor, as well as being younger and better looking than Hanson. So why has your old lover never seemed so appealing? "My apologies. Yes, both sides can use hired experts such as psychologists, forensic specialists and so on. What use Mr. North can find for a pretty college co-ed, I can only guess at, and what this will do to his reputation as an officer of the court...? Well, that's not for me to judge."

Lindsay quickly says, "Okay, let's get started. Mr. Rove has been read his rights and is being questioned in the presence of his attorney Hanson North, and a consultant whom I expect to keep quiet. Mr. Rove, at seven fifteen this morning you were found by uniformed officers Martinelli and Cox, responding to an anonymous call of a gunshot, in the office of Otto's Tyrolean Cafe. The owner of that restaurant, Mr. Otto Schneider, was on the floor dead with a small caliber bullet wound to the back of his head. You were holding a .25 caliber automatic pistol that is registered to the victim. No one else was present, and the wound Mr. Schneider received was fresh - no more than a few minutes old. Would you care to explain these circumstances?"

Adam opens his mouth, but Hanson holds up a warning hand. "Adam, remember our discussion. All answers go through me. Inspector, Mr. Rove gave the arresting officers his statement at the scene. I would have preferred to have consulted with my client before then, but we will stand by that satement. It is the simple truth."

Jill snorts derisively. "Counselor, your client's fingerprints are the only ones on that gun. He had gunpowder residue on his hand, and he was alone with the victim - a man he was having an on going dispute with over money. Do you really want to stick with: he found Otto like that and picked up the gun when he heard someone approaching because it might be the killer coming back? I've heard better alibis from spaced out junkies."

Hanson smiles. "As have we all, which is why Mr. Rove's story has the ring of truth. Did you verify Mr. Rove's claim that he received an early morning text message from Otto to come to the restaurant so he could pay Adam the full amount he was owed?"

Lindsay replies, "We checked both the victim's and Mr. Rove's cell phones. That message was sent from Otto's phone. We are not disputing how Mr. Rove happen to be at the restaurant so early in the day."

Hanson adds, "And that he found the service entrance door unlocked and proceeded to Otto's office to receive his payment?"

Lindsay replies, "The door was unlocked, that's how the Unies entered. But as to what happened after that? What happened Mr. Rove, did Otto change his mind? There was no 400 dollars in cash present for your payment, and you didn't have it with you. Did you lose your temper? Was their an arguement or a struggle? It was Otto's gun. Maybe he pulled it to scare you, and you tried to get it away and then...?"

"I..." is all Adam can get out before Hanson intervenes.

"No Adam, it's a trick. An old trick. They offer you what seems to be a reasonable way out to get you to change your story, and that makes you look guilty. Especially after they point out it couldn't have happened that way since Otto's fingerprints weren't on the gun."

Lindsay smiles at Hanson, acknowledging a point to him. "The bullet has already been removed by the medical examiner, Dr. Washburn, and has been sent to ballistics. When we get that report, and when it confirms the gun you were holding was the murder weapon, you will be formally charged, Mr. Rove."

Jill adds, "Since only your prints were on the victim's own gun, that makes it look premeditated. You brought the gun with you in case Otto backed out again on making his payment to you."

Hanson asks, "Why would Adam believe Otto was going to renege on his promise to pay? And how would my client have posession of Otto's gun?"

Jill replies, "Recently, and for over a month, Adam Rove worked after hours in the Tyrolean Cafe on a very beautiful mural. For all of this work, he agreed to be paid the paltry sum of 500 dollars. Alone in the restaurant so often, Adam could have easily found Otto's gun in the bottom drawer of his desk. We questioned Otto's three nephews who worked with him, and they say it was common knowledge Otto kept a gun in case of robbery. They also confirm Otto's long standing habit of promising to pay and then changing his mind. All who worked at the restaurant knew of Adam's angry dispute with Otto over the unpaid 400 dollars of what he was due. Tell me Mr. Rove, was it because Otto was such a much larger man that you felt the need to bring along a gun?"

"I didn't..." Adam begins, but once more Hanson signals his client to be quiet.

Joan feels Adam's fear, and a touch of guilt. Apparently a violent thought or two had crossed Adam's mind regarding the money grubbing Otto Schneider, and now he regrets them. Adam is at near panic level, and it won't take much for the experienced police inspector and Deputy D. A. to force an unfortunate slip of the tounge. Joan also senses the presence of that persistently flirty reporter, Cindy Thomas, behind the two way mirror. To Joan's surprise, Cindy is experiencing genuine distress over Adam's circumstances. It seems the pretty red-head is developing real, deep feelings of affection for Adam. Joan does her best not to let her concentration slip due to jealousy.

Jill continues, "Alright Mr. Rove, in light of your youth and spotless record, we are willing to make a deal. Second degree murder with a recommendation for leniency. If not, we will push for murder one, and that includes the death penalty. You have until that ballistics report arrives to make up your mind. We will allow you time to talk it over with counsel."

Looking grim faced, Jill and Lindsay leave the room. Adam puts his hands over his face and groans...

"Oh God, oh God, this is a nightmare. Jane, I swear..."

"Adam, I know you're innocent."

"Yeah, but innocent people get sent to prison all the time. Even I can see how bad it looks for me. I had some very public arguments over the way Otto was treating me."

Hanson asks, "Did you threaten him?"

"I...I don't know. I can't remember. Maybe I said something that might be thought of as threatening...but I'm not sure. Could I really get the electric chair?"

"Gas chamber, but death penalties are quite rare in a case like this. But if convicted of first degree murder, you could easily get life without parole."

Joan asks, "Is that possible? They have to prove pre-meditation."

"Adam's access to the gun, and there only being his fingerprints would convince most jurors that Adam had the gun when he went to see Otto. Add to that the fact Otto was shot in the back of the head... Well, it looks bad."

Adam asks, "Are you saying I should take the deal? Second degree murder and serve how long?"

Hanson shrugs. "We can ask for a medium security facility, you could still work on your art - they have programs that encourage that - and with good behavior, you might be out in ten years."

Adam gulps hard and echoes... "Ten years."

"Adam, no! Don't lose hope. You asked for my help, and you know I can give it. I swear I'll prove the truth. I'll find the real killer." Joan says.

As Adam mulls Joan's words, Hanson asks, "How? Miss Girardi, even if you can find the real killer, you have to get proof of his guilt. How will you accomplish that?"

Before Joan can reply, Jill Berhardt and Lindsay Boxer return to the interview room. Lindsay is carrying an evidence bag holding the .25 caliber automatic, and she has a report with her.

Jill says, "Well Mr. Rove, it's the moment of truth. Do we have a deal? Because when I hear Inspector Boxer read that ballistics report, my hands become tied. The deal goes off of the table, and I have to push for the maximum. What do you say, Adam?"

Adam looks nervously from Hanson to Joan. He is sweating and scared, but his mind holds on to one anchor. Joan Girardi is amazing, and if she says she can get him out of this, then he will believe her. In a surprisingly clear and steady voice, Adam replies...

"No deal. I'm innocent, and I know these charges won't stick."

Joan squeezes Adam's hand as Jill sighs heavily. She tried, but if this young man insists on being foolish... Jill nods to Lindsay.

Lindsay opens the report and reads the first few lines to herself. "Okay, just as we all suspected, it was Otto's own gun that killed him. The gun you were caught holding Mr. Rove. The one with your fingerprints only..." Lindsay pauses as she reads further. She gasps. "What the hell? This gun, Otto Schneider's gun, is also the one that killed David Bloom!"

"What?" Jill reacts as she quickly reads over Lindsay's shoulder and confirms what is written there. "But...the balloons? I thought that gun went up, up and away."

Lindsay grimaces as she realizes they have been tricked. "Apparently, the balloons were someone's idea of a clever diversion. So, Mr. Rove, this makes two murders of men shot with the same gun. Two murders where you were present. Now I'm wondering just how involved are you in both murders? We know you didn't shoot David Bloom, but some how the murder weapon ended up in your hands. The lack of that murder weapon was always going to be a sticky problem in the prosecution of Ashley Bloom..."

Hanson protests, "Now wait, we are here to discuss the Otto Schneider killing. My client, by your own words, couldn't have shot Mr. Bloom."

"No, but there is always the possibility that someone was hired to kill Bloom. An amateur by the way things turned out. Someone tall and with dark hair. An amateur who needed a gun, and Adam just happen to have access to a gun that was casually stored in an office desk. I wonder Mr. Rove, do you know a young man who is decidely tall and with dark hair...?"

Joan gulps as she remembers Adam's room mate, Wil Speake, fits that description.

Hanson counters, "But why? David Bloom was a friend and mentor to Adam. Why would he conspire to kill the man?"

Lindsay smiles. "Mr. Rove also has been painting the irresistable Mrs. Bloom while she was nude. Maybe she was getting tired of accomodating a man twice her age. Maybe she found someone younger, cuter and more exciting. Like a talented, promising young artist. Tell me Mr. Rove, what exactly is the nature of your relationship with Ashley Bloom?"

To Be Continued. Please review.


	8. Chapter 8

PART EIGHT

Joan Girardi, attorney Hanson North and Inspector Lindsay Boxer step off of a city bus only half a block away from the Tyrolean Café. Joan looks about getting her bearings at a location she has only visited once before, and then at night. Lindsay looks annoyed as she watches Hanson look to Joan for a hint of what to do next…

"Hanson, I know you're exercising your right to view the crime scene, you and your 'consultant', but why come by bus?" Lindsay asks.

Joan supplies the answer. "We are checking out Adam's story as seen from his perspective. He came by bus and got off at this corner. But you Inspector, you could have come in a police car."

Lindsay shakes her head. "I'm keeping an eye on you two, all the way."

(From her tone, Joan can tell the beautiful detective means keep an eye on Joan.)

Joan continues, "The restaurant's main entrance is half a block straight ahead, but Adam turned and walked toward the alley that leads to the service entrance. Twice as far to travel."

Hanson asks, "Is that significant?"

"Maybe." Joan says with a shrug as the trio begin walking toward the alley entrance.

It has been a couple of hours since the questioning of Adam began back at the precinct, and Hanson deftly kept Adam from answering any questions about a crime he was not charged with, so he did not have to say a word about his involvement with Ashley. However, Jill and Lindsay caught up with Mrs. Bloom at her bail hearing, and Lindsay used that old trick of saying Adam confessed the two were having an affair. Ashley's immediate response, before her lawyer could caution her, was: 'One time only!'. So now the authorities know of the Ashley/Adam relationship.

They arrive at the service entrance of the restaurant and find Deputy D. A. Jill Bernhardt and medical examiner Claire Washburn waiting for them. Claire comments…

"It's not often I'm called back to a crime scene to explain my work."

Hanson responds, "Sorry Dr. Washburn, but we want to take extra caution with this case. I so rarely have one where my client is actually innocent."

"Why, because SHE says so?" Jill asks while pointing at Joan.

Jill's jealousy is evident to all as her ex-lover continues to ogle Joan's body. Feeling awkward, Joan suggests they continue with the examination of the crime scene.

Hanson says, "According to my client, he entered through the service door, which he found closed but unlocked. He thought nothing was strange about that because Otto was expecting him."

The group enters and are in the kitchen area where they notice the three Schneider brothers busy at various tasks. Frederick, the youngest, is helping a delivery driver store supplies in a side room. Hans, the middle brother, is on a cell phone informing staff members not to come in tonight due to the tragedy of his uncle's death. Karl, the maitre'd and oldest, is using a laptop to send cancelation notices of reservations due to the Café being closed for the foreseeable future.

Joan, her abilities functioning in top form, immediately knows who the killer is, but how to prove it? She doubts a sudden: "J'accuse!" will produce a good result.

Claire says, "Folow me and I'll show you the crime scene."

The group walks to the far side of the kitchen, and Claire pauses at a door with a police line tape…

"This is Otto's office. There are two doors…" Claire says as she leads the way in. "Besides this one, the door on the other side opens into the main dining room."

The office is small, efficent and normally, very neat.

Claire continues, "We found the body on the floor, next to the desk. Otto was shot once in the back of the head. From the angle of the wound and the blood splatter, he was sitting in his chair working on the books when he was shot. And I do mean 'books'. It seems Otto liked the old fashioned way of doing things, even though a computer program would get the job done in less than half the time."

While everyone is imagining the events of this grisly scene, Joan whispers to Hanson, "Keep everyone busy as long as you can while I look around."

Hanson nods, ready to serve Joan in anyway. He begins peppering Claire with technical questions on the forensic evidence while Joan exits into the dining area. Lindsay ignores what is going on in the crime room while she watches Joan drift about the restaurant, examining the many works of art on display by bay area college students. As she looks at each piece, Joan begins a series of phone calls on her cell. Joan appears to be doing nothing of importance, but Lindsay can't take her eyes off of the young woman. Her own instincts, the same ones that told her that there was something odd and special about Joan the first time she saw her, are still directing her to focus on Joan. Eventually, Joan steps into the kitchen and has a quiet conversation with Karl Schneider. Joan returns to the dining section, sits under the mural devoted to herself, and soon Karl brings her a coffee service for two to the table. It is a clear invitation.

As Claire says a hasty goodbye, having answered all the questions Hanson could think of, Lindsay heads toward Joan—leaving the two lawyers alone in the office. Lindsay sits across from Joan and accepts a cup of coffee. She and Joan exchange polite, assessing smiles.

"Alright Miss Girardi, I see I'm going to have to deal with you since you won't leave this matter alone. I don't know what you did to poor Hanson North, but you've managed to remove even the tiny shred of respect I had for the man. I'm already tired of watching him drool over you, so let's make this short and sweet. If you will give me your ideas, suspicions or whatever you think you've got, I promise to give them serious consideration if you will then withdraw from this case."

Joan smiles. She is growing fond of Lindsay Boxer, who in some ways reminds her of her father. Lindsay is smart, dedicated and honest. She has great instincts, and is not the kind of cop who will leave any loose ends. Joan has no doubt that in time, Lindsay would come to the right conclusion about who is really guilty. But Joan is short on time and needs this wrapped up right away, and since Lindsay doesn't have the edge Joan has…

"Inspector, you know my background—the business with Ryan Hunter?"

"I read about it. I suppose you think that qualifies you as a detective? I'll admit it was impressive…"

"No, no it was not. You're right, I'm no detective. If I were, I would have nailed Ryan before he killed so many people…" Joan's voice trails off in bitterness.

Lindsay pauses, recognizing deep pain. She is much too familiar with that herself. "How did you catch onto this Ryan guy?"

"Instincts. I'm the granddaughter and daughter of cops, and I guess I inherited some cop intincts."

"Yeah, I'm the daughter of a cop too…" Lindsay softly says with bitterness of her own.

"The first time I saw Ryan Hunter, he had just saved Adam's life. Everyone was thanking and congratulating him, and I should have been too. But…something deep in my gut told me there was something seriously wrong with that man. When the attacks on religious targets began in Arcadia, I just knew, in a way I couldn't prove, Ryan was guilty."

Lindsay nods. "Yeah, I've had hunches like that."

"Then tell me, based just on your instincts, who is the one person in this restaurant you would never turn your back on?"

Lindsay doesn't hesitate. "Frederick Schneider. My 'gut' tells me there is something seriously wrong with that guy. You aren't suggesting anything new to me Miss Girardi. The three Schneider brothers will equally share in the inheritance of their uncle's estate. I did check on that, as well as their alibis. Karl and Hans drove into work together, arriving shortly after the arrest of Adam. Frederick arrived by bus, and got here about ten minutes after his brothers. Yes, he could have lied about that, but it was Adam who was found with the murder weapon in his hand. The same weapon that killed David Bloom, whose wife Adam was sleeping with."

"Once."

"How many times would it take before a man became obsessed with a woman like Ashley Bloom? Even if the 'once' is right, that doesn't mean Adam couldn't have wanted Ashley for his own. It's not hard to imagine Adam and say, some college drinking buddy coming up with a plan to eliminate David Bloom so that Adam could 'comfort' the grieving widow. Perhaps to the point of marrying the widow and gaining access to the Bloom fortune?"

Joan asks, "Is that what your instincts tell you?"

Lindsay shakes her head. "No. I'll admit Adam Rove, despite his sometimes poor decisions in matters of the bedroom, seems like a nice guy. But I've seen a lot of nice guys, in a moment of stress, do some truly horrendous crimes. I'm a cop, and I'm accountable to the chain of command. I don't have the luxury of presenting my instincts and asking to be trusted on that basis."

Joan nods. "Yeah, I get that. The first time I told my Dad about Ryan and asked him to trust me, he dismissed me like a child. I had no proof to offer other than my feelings."

"And apparently you still don't. I spoke with Ashley, and she told me how David would every year take a few art students under his wing that he thought had great potential. He would have them come to parties at his home to introduce them to important people in the art world. He would give them the grand tour of his home, including the private elevator in the den. Adam had that tour."

"And so did others, including Frederick Schneider."

"Frederick...knew Bloom?"

"I've been talking with a few people, including Adam's room mate, a security officer at the campus who is a friend of Adam's, and Karl Schneider. Last year, Frederick was one of those favored few that Dean David Bloom had on his list of potential greats. But, Frederick also had a drug problem. After an overdose of cocaine, Otto paid for his nephew's treatment at a rehab center. It was expensive, and Otto got Frederick to sign a loan agreement to repay the debt with interest. Heavy interest. After recovering from his addiction, Frederick wanted his old life back, but his scholarship was gone. He went to David Bloom and asked for his help. David refused, saying a better choice had taken his place—a brillant young artist named Adam Rove. Frederick became enraged and threatened David. Campus security was called to escort Frederick away, and David Bloom swore Frederick would never regain admitance to Berkeley as long as he was the dean of the school of art."

Lindsay smiles. "Now that's what I call a motive. Yes, Frederick Schneider just moved up on the suspect list. He certainly had access to the gun, and it seems he knew about the Bloom's apartment and their parties. By the way, Mr. Harley the caterer confirmed your suspicion. He needed a lot of extra help for a big party on a holiday, and he didn't know half of the people who were working for him. Frederick could have easily slipped in with the catering staff, and he certainly matches Ashley's description of her attacker. But..."

"But, we have no proof. 'Freddy' has been both clever and lucky. Here's where I get stuck. My instincts can point me in the right direction, but evidence gathering is not my strong suit."

"And we need evidence. Hanson can make great strides with a jury using what you've told me, but that won't keep Adam from facing trial. Jill's superiors in the D. A.'s office will insist on going with the strongest possible case. They probably can't make Adam's connection with David Bloom's murder stick, but with Otto's...?"

Joan nods. "Yeah, if only the cops hadn't caught Adam literally with the murder weapon in his hand..."

Lindsay snaps her fingers. "That's right! Response time... Officer, have the three Schneider brothers join us right away."

Joan smiles. She can easily read Lindsay's shift in mood. The raven-haired detective has it solved. As they wait for Otto's nephews to join them, Hanson and Jill step out of the office looking a little flushed and hastily straightening their clothes. Oops, she lost her concentration with Hanson. He was free to think clearly again, and finding himself alone with a woman he desires and who was jealously desiring him... Joan hopes there are no bad ripples from that moment of indiscretion. The three Schneider brothers line up in front of the table. Frederick takes a quick glance at Adam's mural on the wall, and Joan reads his anger. Karl speaks for the group...

"You needed us Inspector?"

Lindsay takes out a handheld recorder and replies, "Just a technicality we overlooked. Since you three were the first civilans on the scene after the arrest of the suspect, we need to have on record that none of you witnessed anything of significance or touched any evidence. I'm sorry for this minor inconvenience, but when you deal with a public defender like Hanson North, you have to cross every 't' and dot every 'i'."

Hans, the middle brother, asks, "What do you want us to say?"

"Just your name, your job here and that you didn't see or touch anything when you arrived. Uh Frederick, you were the last one here, so you had the least chance of crossing into the investigation. Let's start with you..."

Frederick shrugs and speaks into the recorder. "I'm Frederick Schneider, a busboy here at the Tyrolean Cafe, and when I arrived here this morning, Adam Rove was already in handcuffs. The police line was just being put up, and I neither saw or touched any evidence."

"Thank you Frederick, that will do. Karl and Hans, I won't need any statements from you. I only needed a recording of your brother's voice."

Frederick begins to look nervous. "Why...why do you need that?"

Lindsay smiles. "Fred, you're a person of interest in this crime. Now, I was thinking about the response time of the S. F. P. D. We're good, but five minutes is the minimum you can expect after a call to 9-1-1. Adam Rove was found standing over the body of your uncle with the gun still in his hand. If the anonymous call that reported the gunshot came after the murder, it means Adam stood there like a statue for over five minutes until the cops arrived. Of course sometimes people in shock do that, but I don't think that's the case. We know the exact time of the 9-1-1 call, and we will be checking the security cameras of the businesses where Adam got off the bus for his arrival time. Someone watching from the front of the restaurant would have seen Adam starting the long walk around to the back of this business. That would have given that person the time to call 9-1-1 before the shooting actually took place."

Hanson quickly says, "That would prove my client couldn't have killed Otto!"

Lindsay nods. "Even more, voice analysis of the caller can be compared to Frederick's voice. That is as reliable as fingerprints."

Frederick Schneider gulps hard, tries to think of a way out of this mess, but quickly sees there is none. He sighs and angrily mutters...

"They deserved to die."

X X X X X

It took a couple of more hours, but eventually the whole story came out. Frederick had been thinking of murdering his uncle and David Bloom for a long time, but never had the nerve to try. Working his menial job at the restaurant where Otto featured so many young artists, Frederick was denied even that outlet for his artistic efforts. Otto considered his nephew's artwork too dark and disturbing to be displayed amongst his patrons. The final straw came for Frederick when his skinflint uncle actually hired the very artist who took his spot at Berkeley. Having to stare at Adam's mural night after night, it seemed like the fates were mocking Frederick. So, he stole the only gun he had access to and slipped unnoticed into the Bloom's Fourth of July party which he knew about from Ashley's own blog. The chance to shoot David presented itself, but Ashley's attempt to save a husband she only nominally loved caused the gun to go off before the begining of the fireworks. After that, he improvised his escape - using the released balloons as a last moment distraction.

Fearing that Otto might soon miss his stolen gun, Frederick knew he had to get rid of his uncle right away, and Adam's arguements with Otto over money made him the perfect patsy. Arriving at the same time as his always first-in uncle, Frederick asked to borrow Otto's cell phone to send a friend a text message. It was the one urging Adam to come right away if he wanted to be paid. When Frederick spotted Adam getting off of the bus, he used an untraceable disposable cell phone to make the 9-1-1 call about a gunshot at the Cafe. Wearing gloves, he then shot his unsuspecting uncle and left the gun on the desk, escaping out the front entrance just as Adam was finding the murdered Otto. Moments later the police arrived, and that noise was the one that caused Adam to pick up the just fired pistol, getting gunpowder residue on his hand.

Frederick was charged with the murders of David and Otto. Charges were dropped against Ashley Bloom, and of course, Adam was released. Waiting in the front lobby of the precinct house, Joan sees a stunned and relieved Adam escorted to his freedom by his public defender, Hanson North. Hanson notices Joan, blushes deeply and hastily exits. Adam rushes toward Joan and gives her a huge hug with a cry of joy...

"Oh my God, Jane, you did it! You freed me."

"Of course. Did you expect anything else?" Joan replies with a jokey laugh.

"For a moment there, I thought... Wow, how can I ever thank you?"

Joan smiles and gives Adam a wink. "Well, my friend, I believe there was a discussion about a certain favor you were going to do for me...?"

Adam smiles back. "Something about making you moo?"

Joan laughs. "That's the one."

"Sure, but...Wil is back in the apartment."

"Well, as nice as your bachelor pad may be, I was thinking we might upgrade to something a little better. I have the credit card Kevin gave me to cover my expenses during my summer vacation. How about I rent a car, make reservations at some bed and breakfast down the coast and we just...go for it."

Adam gulps, "Well, I am pretty exhausted, but for you..."

Joan giggles. "I didn't mean this very moment. I'll make the arrangements and pick you up tomorrow, say around noon? We can make it a long weekend together."

"I thought you were leaving for Miami on Saturday?"

"I'll call my Grandpa and let him know I'll be arriving later than expected. Besides, this will get me out of Florene's house sooner. She's been great, but it's now a house of mourning and I'm kind of in the way."

Adam nods and gives Joan a brief kiss. "I'll be ready with my bag packed, eagerly awaiting my friend-with-benefits."

Joan gives Adam a return kiss. "Thank you Adam. I know that with you, my first time will be a wonderful experience. See you tomorrow."

They exchange one more kiss, and with a cute wave, Joan walks away, resisting an urge to skip with happiness. Adam watches her go, feeling their close connection and his adoration for his great friend. Softly he whispers...

"First time..."

"Adam?" a voice from behind says.

Adam turns and smiles at Cindy Thomas, the young woman he is begining to realize is smitten with him. Adam acknowledges his own attraction to the cute red-head, but sighs. He must think of Jane...

"Hello Cindy, did you get your story filed?"

"Yes, and thanks again for the interview. An exclusive with the man who was framed for murder will make my editor a very happy man."

"Glad to do it. I wanted a way to thank you for your kindness and support while Jane and the others were out solving the murder."

"Well, it was actually Lindsay who solved the crime."

Adam nods, not willing to debate the point. "Still, it was really nice of you to be there for me. I was feeling so alone and scared. You made today...bearable."

Cindy blushes a little, feeling her attraction growing with every moment. "I guess you must be exhausted and are planning to head back to Berkeley?"

"Yeah, after I grab a quick bite. I was too nervous to eat the jail's food."

"Just as well, I hear it's awful. Uh, if you're looking for a place to eat that's nearby, I'm fond of a little Italian restaurant around the corner."

Adam smiles. "I like Italian. Would you like to join me...?"

Cindy smiles back. "I'd love to."

They walk away from the police station, and Cindy lets her hand briefly brush against Adam's. He takes the hint, and they continue, holding hands...

X X X X X

7-6-07/Friday morning.

Joan enters Florene's house sweaty, but feeling good. Her workout went well, her tutor was less of a jerk than usual, and he didn't even make a fuss when she told him to leave her alone for the next three days. She will be busy, 'questing'. Joan is a little surprised to see Florene waiting for her in the foyer...

"Good morning, Joan."

"Good morning. Uh, how is Kate doing?"

"A little better. Knowing the truth helps, and she and Ashley are even going to meet today to plan David's funeral together."

"Start of a beautiful friendship?"

"Hardly, but at least they won't be bitter enemies. I think Kate realizes Ashley really did love David in her own way. Are you sure you can't stay longer, Joan? I know this has been a more difficult visit than you anticipated, but you truly are welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Thank you Cousin Florene, but it's time for me to mosey along. I can't thank you enough for your hospitality."

"Well, you're welcome anytime. Oh, before I forget, a young man with the oddest name dropped off this letter and said it was vital you got it before you left."

Joan accepts the letter that is simply adddressed to 'Jane'. "Odd name? Wil Speake?"

"That's the one. I actually asked him: 'You'll speak about what'?"

"Thank you." Joan says as she goes up the stairs to the guest room. She places the letter on the dresser as she goes to take a quick shower. An unsettled feeling keeps Joan from opening the letter right away. Why would Adam send her a handwritten note instead of a text or e-mail? It must be something very personal and important. After her shower, Joan carefully dresses in the outfit she picked out for the day. Unable to delay any longer, Joan reluctantly opens the letter and reads...

'My dearest Jane,

Please know that I love you and that I am your true friend. The thought of being with you excites me more than I can say, but it also scares me. Too many times in my life I have let passion lead me into a hasty decision I later regretted. I only have to think of that creepy lawyer leering at you to see what I can be like at my worse. (What was wrong with that guy?)

If I can really call myself your friend, then I need to think of you first - as in your first time. On those rare days when I remember my first time, all I have is regrets and pain. I am not suggesting that it would be like that with us. I'm sure it would be okay, but Jane, you deserve much better. You deserve to be deeply in love with a guy you have a future with. That wouldn't be so in a friends-with-benefits moment. Maybe at some point in our lives we can explore that option, but not for your first time.

Jane, you have no idea how difficult this decision is for me, even knowing that it's what is best for you. Right now, I desperately want to tear up this letter and rush to you. To keep from giving in to temptation as I have done in the past, I'm leaving town for the weekend. Cindy Thomas and I are going to a B & B in the Napa Valley (separate rooms!) Cindy has asked me to bring my sketchpad, and I look forward to drawing her.

Jane, please don't be mad, because I am doing this for your sake. For once, putting what is right for you ahead of my own selfish needs. This is the best way I can think of to show you that I am a true, loving friend. I really hope you find that very lucky special guy who will be the perfect choice for your first time.

All my love,

Adam.'

In a trembling voice, Joan comments, "Well, that's that."

Joan turns to her bags and finishes packing. She must think of what to do next... Check with the airline and change her ticket to the next available flight to Miami. Call her Grandpa to let him know she will be arriving early... Instead, Joan sits on the bed and begins to softly weep.

Joan rereads the letter and thinks about what Adam has written. She begins to review all of the things that have happened this week, opening herself up to the possibilities... She begins to see the connections and their ripples. Joan wipes away her tears and looks up.

"Okay, I get it. I set this in motion. It was my free will choice to help Cindy see that her faux crush on Lindsay was due to her fear of trying again with another guy after her last boyfriend hurt her so badly. For Cindy, it was a scales-falling-from-her-eyes sort of moment. For the first time in nearly two years, she looked around for a nice, cute guy and there was Adam..."

Joan pauses to steady her voice. "Yeah, I see it now. I knew Cindy was smitten with Adam, but through my hormonal haze, I didn't realize Adam was also very interested in her. He was suppressing his feelings because I was suddenly back in his life. Poor Adam, he was so loyal to me, he was willing to risk losing a very good thing for himself. Yes, I get that too. If Adam and I had hooked up this week, it would have changed our couple's vibe, and Cindy would have backed off. That would have been a mistake for both of them. This is going to be an important relationship for Cindy and Adam - one that will be filled with simple, natural, love and commitment..."

Joan sighs. "I almost messed that up for Adam because of my 'quest' to just get my virginity ended. Okay, lesson learned. No more quests for me. I'll wait, no matter how long it takes, until I find the right guy. Wait for when it is a simple, natural moment filled with loving commitment."

Joan picks up her bags and heads for the door. Softly she mutters, "Besides, I'm out of ex boyfriends."

THE END.

Please review.

(I used some of the plot elements of the only season of Women's Murder Club in this story. Jill, the commitment phobic Deputy D. A., did fail in her relationship with her ER doctor boyfriend, due in part to a one time hook up with her ex, Hanson. The timing of this event was unspecified, so I put in this story. Lindsay and ex-husband Tom did have one last night of passion which they both regretted and vowed never to repeat. But, it did bring closure to them, and they began to function better in their police work. After getting over a false alarm pregnancy scare, Lindsay even started to date again. Heather never found out Tom cheated on her, and at the end of the series, Lindsay was at risk as she closed in on the Kiss-Me-Not-Killer. Women's Murder Club isn't currently available on DVD, but if you get a chance to view the episodes, I highly recommend it. Like me, you will wonder how such a high quality show failed while endless moronic reality shows, with their embarrassing faux celebrities, continue to be churned out.)


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